


Rivers till I reach you

by ElenyasBlood



Category: CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, Big Bang Challenge, Childhood Trauma, Complete, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mental Institutions, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Road Trips, Slow Burn, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide Attempt, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:00:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElenyasBlood/pseuds/ElenyasBlood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen's life is falling apart; with his formerly booming business going bankrupt, he's losing his girlfriend, his money and his direction. To add insult to injury, he finds himself doing community service as a janitor in a mental hospital after having racked up one too many speeding tickets. But between scrubbing toilets and sweeping floors, Jensen saves the life of a young patient named Jared and is shocked when he follows him home. Weirdly, Jared seems insistent about wanting to stay with Jensen despite them being strangers, making every further discussion futile. Running out of time and too compassionate to leave Jared all alone, Jensen makes a momentous decision: instead of escorting the shy young man back to the hospital like he probably should, he lets him tag along to his brother’s wedding, and together they embark on a journey through the summer-hot, golden South that will shake both their lives to the very foundations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Dear reader, 
> 
> before you start reading this story, I want to make sure you read and understood the tags. The story in and on itself is not as dark and depressing as the tags my convey and there is a fair amount of fluff, happiness, romance and tenderness in it, but it sure does deal with a good amount of painful topics and heavy themes at times. If you spot any untagged trigger please let me know immediately so i can add the respective tag asap.
> 
> This story is loosely inspired by a German movie called _Barfuss_.
> 
> E xxx

The bus Jensen had taken to the hospital smelled like piss and cold cigarette smoke. Every seat cover was smudged with dirt, leaving Jensen no choice but to stand by the door for the whole ride. It was a hot day in late summer and everything was soaked in sepia colors as sunlight filtered through the clouds in streaks of liquid gold. The city was bustling with people and the air tasted thick, sickeningly acrid. Not even a tepid breeze stirred the waves outside the city limits, and Jensen quickly hopped off once the bus came to a stop, relieved to be released from the vehicle’s suffocating clutches.  

After greedily gulping down half a bottle of water right at the bus stop, Jensen crossed the street on wobbly knees. The building in front of him was tall, impressive, all sun-bleached stone and spiked iron fences. The windows were barred, the doors closed even in this impossible heat, and the potted plants next to the entry were shriveled. Sadly, the dry, brown leaves seemed strangely fitting for a place like this.

Jensen shifted uneasily in his tight slacks and button-down and took a deep breath. He tried not to dwell on the fact that his lungs felt full of tar and instead kept reminding himself that it was just a job.

Inside the building shadows hung low in every corner. The seemingly centuries old security guard gave Jensen a jerky nod when he walked past and then there was the long silence. Silence and the stench of disinfectant. The floor was shiny and swallowed the sound of every footfall, and the heat seemed to stretch and swell until Jensen felt like he was moving in a vacuum.

Following the instructions on the crumpled piece of paper he held in his right palm, Jensen silently trudged down a long hallway and up a small staircase until he stood in front of a pristine white door. He noticed that everything looked the same inside the hospital: the walls, the floor, the iron bars in front of the windows. They were casting long, haunting shadows on the tiles. It was the kind of uniformity that made you shiver in broad daylight, an eeriness summoned by hollow spaces and the feeling of shrinking into vast nothingness amongst seemingly endless white. It was the pure and simple understanding of one’s own mortality, the revelation that everything must die.

“Just a job,” Jensen mumbled and rapped at the door three times before an even voice called him inside.

Throat parched and hands oddly cold, Jensen stepped over the threshold and into the field of vision of a woman in her mid-fifties sitting behind a gigantic desk. Paperwork was piled on either side of her, framing her fragile body like a weird, crooked picture.

“What can I do for you?” she asked without looking up from the file she was scribbling in. Her hair was gathered in a sleek knot, and Jensen was surprised she wasn’t wearing black-framed glasses or a stethoscope around her neck. What did identify her as the head of the facility was her old-fashioned lab coat with a small name tag and the dark circles around her eyes, the clear sign of unerasable exhaustion written into the features of every practicing physician.

“I’m here for the job,” Jensen replied once he had found his tongue again. He cringed when the woman looked up.

“Which job? I’m not looking for new employees.” Her hair was the color of summer wheat and she examined Jensen—his rumpled suit and disheveled hair, probably the tan on the bridge of his nose—through curious, gray eyes.

Fidgeting with the seam of his sleeve, Jensen took a deep breath of the stale, dry air before he replied. “Yeah, uh, I’m the _volunteer_ for the the vacant spot in, uh, maintenance.”

Recognition flashed across the doctor’s face and she leaned back in her chair, her eyebrows knitting tightly together. “You’re the genius with too many speeding tickets, that what you mean?”

“In the flesh,” Jensen replied, half a smile plastered across his face.

The woman shifted in her seat. “Good, because for a moment you made it sound like you were actually voluntarily here and not because some judge sentenced you to mop our floors because of your lead foot.”

Jensen shrugged, then nodded. “I like to keep a positive outlook on things.”

“Good luck keeping that attitude in here, Mr—”

“Ackles. Jensen Ackles.”

The woman didn’t bother to get up or shake the hand Jensen foolishly offered. Instead she grabbed a file Jensen recognized as his own and flipped through it, shaking her head in disbelief.

“This is quite the record you’ve got here, Mr. Ackles. Speeding, disorderly conduct, indecent behavior towards a member of the law. Impressive.”

Jensen decided that it was best to swallow the sharp reply he had sitting on the edge of his tongue and silently looked around the office. Dust was dancing in the beams of sunlight under the window and Jensen desperately wanted to be somewhere else.

“Well, as long as you know how to clean a toilet and scrub a floor I’m not one to judge. God knows I’ve seen worse. Now, just a few basic house rules: no smoking inside the building, no open fire of any kind, for that matter. Do not try to talk to any of the patients, they’re here for a reason. We offer a safe place and you, Mr. Ackles, are the last one who’s going to disturb that fragile peace. These people need help, not some small-time criminal interfering in their daily routine.”

“You now work under professional discretion and I’ll not hesitate to hold you to that: what happens inside those walls, stays here, understood? Oh and it should be obvious but I feel like I should mention it to you: no drugs at work. No alcohol, no crack, no pills, no nothing. Not even coffee!”

Jensen nodded and felt like an insect under the doctor’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Good. Welcome to the team, then. My name is Dr. Samantha Smith and if you have any questions please keep them as far away from me as possible. I’m sure our janitor Mr. Morgan is happy to listen to all your concerns; you’ll find him in his office on the third floor. Got that?”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Jensen found himself nodding again. He figured it would be a good idea to say something, but the physician beat him to it.

“Fantastic,” she said, sounding less enthusiastic than before, even when she clapped her hands with finality. “Then I’d like you to leave my office now; I’m very busy and I reckon there are some dirty floors waiting for your diligent hands. Good day, Mr. Ackles. You can come and fetch your papers from me by the end of the week.”

Dr. Smith didn’t exactly shove Jensen out of her office, but it felt like she had when he stepped into the hallway again, mind still full-on reeling with the things he’d heard. For all he knew, this was going to be one hell of a week and with his stomach tied in knots, Jensen went to see his supervisor.

Mr. Morgan turned out to be a tall, dark man with a gruff voice and a poor sense of humor. He greeted Jensen with a grunt and a firm handshake, giving a toothy smile.

“So you’re the new one, huh? Well, what did you do, then? Robbery? Harassment? Tickling someone with a knife?”

Jensen flinched at the words, but managed to bite back a sharp comment and shook his head instead. “Nah, just got caught a few times going over the speed limit.”

“Huh? That’s unusual. Why didn’t you just pay the hundred-something bucks and be done with it?”

Jensen shrugged, gave an uneasy smile and was relieved when the janitor dropped the topic in favor of walking down the hallway towards the bathrooms. Mr. Morgan was pushing a cart loaded with cleaning supplies and kept on rambling about work while they trailed along the white walls, giving Jensen enough time to feel embarrassment burning hot in his cheeks.

Truth be told, he was as broke as one could be, and last week when the judge had offered him the chance to pay what he owed or work off his debt, there had been nothing he could do but choose the latter. The last few months had been tough for Jensen, and after his company had been sold, he’d found himself broke and cast out of the business. With the money gone, the ranks of his friends and lovers cleared pretty fast, and with them all of his connections started to dwindle away one after another. Life had become much harder over night and Jensen suddenly caught himself wandering around aimlessly, searching for meaning beneath the shards and ruins of his former life.

“See that?” Mr. Morgan said, effectively snapping Jensen out of his musings. “That’s dried urine. Isn’t that disgusting?”

Jensen made a noncommittal grunt and only then did he become acutely aware of their surroundings: the cramped stalls and tiled walls, the yellow light and above everything the exorbitant stench of feces.

“Those nutcases piss all over the place and usually I’m the one who has to clean up after them. But looks like today is my lucky day, dude.”

Jensen sighed. “‘Cause I’ll be the one wiping the floors today, won’t I?” he assumed and had to smother the reflex to hurriedly back out of the bathroom. The thought of spending the rest of the day inside the stalls, on his knees and scrubbing away at the whitish flecks of dried pee, made his stomach lurch, and suddenly he was almost grateful that earlier his fridge had been too empty to provide him with a full meal.

“Exactly. Be careful with the cleaning agent though, it’s corrosive and smells worse than the piss. Here.” The janitor handed Jensen a pair of almost fresh looking gloves, a few rags, a brush and a bottle with a clear liquid. It smelled exhilaratingly like chemicals and alcohol and Jensen welcomed the change with a nod.

“Anything else I should know?” he asked, looking around with his eyes squinted against the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

Mr. Morgan scratched his neck and gave a half-shrug, then turned to walk towards the door. “Did Dr. Smith say something about the loonies? Cause they sure are something ‘round here.”

“Yeah, uh, she already told me I should try and stay away from them,” Jensen replied. “She seemed pretty serious about it, too.”

The janitor was already over the threshold when he nodded. “Better do what she says, then. Oh, and newbie? Next time lose the tie when you come to work; no need to impress anyone, here.”

And with a last, somewhat crooked smirk he was gone, leaving Jensen to the dirty toilet stalls and the nagging nausea inside his stomach.

 ♦ 

Time turned to molasses during the course of the afternoon. It seemed to stretch on forever, ran thick like honey, and after what felt like a lifetime Jensen had only managed to clean three urine-crusted toilet bowls and half the tiles in the first stall. Sweat was trickling down his temples and his once neatly ironed button-down was clinging to his back, thoroughly soaked and itchy in its wet, messy state. He had discarded his suit jacket what seemed hours ago and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the crook of his arms.

His hopes of getting used to the overwhelming stench once he got to work hadn’t been fulfilled, and the nausea had turned into a full-blown headache, dry throat and a lurching stomach included. At some point he had gotten up to take a closer look at his surroundings and try to maybe open a window, but without success. The handles had been removed, and furthermore Jensen noticed the total absence of mirrors on the wall above the row of sinks. The stalls had no locks and everything was made of plastic or wood; no metal, no sharp edges, no shattered tiles. The walls were tall and white, just like everything else in this goddamn facility, and Jensen’s voice echoed loudly with the song he hummed.

Mr. Morgan had come to check on him once but other than that Jensen’s work had been lonely and undisturbed,which made the sudden noise he heard coming from outside the stall all the more surprising. Stopping in his actions, Jensen sat back on his heels and tilted his head towards the unusual sound. It was the soft padding of socked feet against tiles and the quiet whisper of fabric against skin, along with ragged, uneven breaths. Something was dragged over the floor briefly before it was picked up again and then neatly set down somewhere by the sinks. It was when silence ensued that Jensen actually bothered to sit up properly and carefully push the stall’s door open, just a little bit until he could get a glimpse of what was going on.

The first thing Jensen saw was a chair, placed right by the window. It was white and made of plastic and there was something unsettling about its placement, the way it stood right in the single cone of golden summer light. There was a pair of feet balancing on it, belonging to two skinny legs clad in simple white pajama bottoms. The gray, threadbare shirt the person was wearing was a little hiked up around the hips, revealing a strip of warm skin, and for a heartbeat Jensen was bewitched.

That was until the person grunted quietly with exertion and Jensen’s gaze flickered upwards, past the slim waist and right along the column of a gently moving throat. Briefly Jensen wondered if it was the sunlight that made the everything look so soft and peaceful, or if it was just his mind hazed by the fumes from the cleaning agent. Then the person groaned again and Jensen’s eyes flew up to look into the face of a beautiful young man, framed by greasy chestnut colored hair, with big hazel eyes and a slightly upturned nose. His soft red lips were gently parted on each ragged breath and his strong jawline was dotted with a few dark moles. Determination was coming off him in waves and only then did Jensen notice how the young man was feverishly working on something, his delicate hands high above his head as he seemingly tried to fix a knot around the thick metal pipes on the ceiling.

It was a peculiar thing to see, intimate for some reason, and yet Jensen couldn’t tear his eyes away from the man’s doing, the way he stood on his tip-toes and handled what appeared to be the belt of his bathrobe. As soon as he was done, his nimble fingers tied a loop on the other end of the belt, and  Jensen finally realized what the stranger was attempting to do. That beautiful young man was about to hang himself, and though the revelation struck Jensen to the very core with blinding force, he still didn’t dare to move. Paralyzed by the sheer horror of what was about to come, Jensen was stunned into stillness. And though he knew he had to stop this young man at all costs, he just couldn’t spur his limbs into motion, his tongue too heavy to form the words required to break the silence. He was filled with dread and terror, and yet his body refused to spring into action, panic flooding in.  

The stranger on the stool gave a small jerk on the knots to prove their resilience, then took a deep breath. The light reflecting on his hair was golden, beautiful, twirling together like copper and bronze in an endless dance. His eyes were red-rimmed but tearless and something about the way he slipped his neck through the loop was serene, almost peaceful. Time seemed to slow down until Jensen couldn’t feel his pulse anymore and only the stranger’s ragged breaths kept echoing in the eery silence of the bathroom.  

The air was hot and stifled in Jensen’s lungs, his head filled with cotton wool, and then suddenly the young man jumped and Jensen’s body sprung into action. Forgotten were his thoughts from mere seconds ago and his initial hesitation got swept away by a wave of panic. There was a quiet sob coming from the stranger, followed by the deafening sound of Jensen banging through the stall’s door.

“What are you doing?” Jensen heard himself yell, then silence again, and he was running and grabbing the stranger around his bony waist, pushing him up and out of the life-threatening pull of the loop.

“What are you doing? What are you _doing_?” Jensen shouted time and time again as he desperately tried to keep the young man upright, face pressed against the stranger’s stomach. Jensen’s biceps bulged painfully as he tried to balance the hanging body in one arm while he used the other hand to fumble the knot open. It seemed like a lifetime went by until the cord finally slackened.

The young man didn’t reply, didn’t try to wrestle out of Jensen’s vice-like grip, but didn’t encourage Jensen’s frantic attempts to save his life either. He just hung there, unmoving, with his glassy, hazel eyes accusingly boring into Jensen’s and his hands fisting in the fabric of his thin pajama pants.

Desperate to fill the suffocating silence, Jensen heard himself spill useless phrases into the room while he kept on pulling at the belt, and when finally the knot came loose he sank down with a moan, dragging the newly freed stranger with him until they hit the floor.

They crashed into the tiles with a loud thud, Jensen underneath and the young man sprawled on top of him. He was retching and coughing and finally there were tears leaking down his cheeks, hot and real, and Jensen didn’t dare to move at the sight. He just lay there in the stifled bathroom air, with a stranger on top of him, both of them unmoving and only touching where there bodies fit together. The world started to spin again and with the tears came the sobs and the low, desperate crying. And Jensen had never been so quiet in his life.

That’s how Mr. Morgan found them; their bodies woven together and Jared’s face buried in his hands. Angry bruises already started to bloom around his neck and his body shook with the force of his grief, his sorrow digging deep grooves into Jensen’s heart.

The janitor didn’t bother to ask any questions and instead called for Dr. Smith immediately. She arrived with a bunch of white-clad men with big muscles and stern faces. They pulled the young man up and away from Jensen and all he could do was watch and bite his cheek until they dragged him into an upright position, too. By the time Dr. Smith turned to him, Jensen could taste blood.

“What in heaven’s name is going on here?” she yelled, the cool, composed woman from earlier that day all but gone. Her voice bounced off the walls and Jensen watched the young stranger cringe at the sound. He was still trying to squirm away from the guards’ tight clutches and a new wash of tears trickled down his cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Jensen replied hollowly, causing another booming demand from the physician.

“You don’t know?” she replied agitated. “Well, you better try to come up with a decent explanation right now, Mr. Ackles. Because from what I can see I have one of my patients with squeeze marks around his neck and he was found in your immediate proximity, crying.”

Jensen felt his mouth opening on a reply, but then he remembered the young man’s face, his glassy eyes and the way he had looked at him with desperate determination. It reminded him that he was only a bystander. If the young man decided to talk about his plans, then he should do so on his own. It wasn’t Jensen’s place to spill the secret, and with a shrug he sealed his mouth shut.

“That’s it? A shrug? Do you understand what this means? Because if it turns out you harassed one of my patients then I will press charges, Mr. Ackles.”

Sighing, Jensen tore his eyes away from the red face of the physician to look at the patient instead, the way he was now slumped between the angry-looking men, head hung low and face hidden behind his floppy bangs. He had stopped struggling and the crying had died down  to small, quiet sobs.

“Well then,” Dr. Smith concluded when Jensen remained silent again. “You leave me no choice other than to report you to the police. Let’s see if you still choose to play the waiting game once you’re in cuffs. Mr. Gray, Mr. Wolton, would you please escort our guest outside until the police arrive. I don’t—”

“He didn’t hurt me,” a raspy voice interrupted the doctor’s speech. Every face in the room turned to the young man. “Didn’t do anything, didn’t—” he trailed off, coughing painfully before sagging a little deeper into the guards’ grips.

Dr. Smith raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Really? Are you sure? You don’t have to lie to protect him, sweetie, you don’t owe him anything.”

Jensen didn’t so much roll his eyes at that, but stayed silent, ignoring the painfully tight grip on his biceps where one of the guards still hadn’t let go of him.

The young stranger nodded. “I know. But he didn’t,” he rasped and Dr. Smith sucked in a deep breath.

“Well, in that case I suggest you go and get some rest in your own room. I’ll come and take a look at you as soon as I’m done here,” the physician said, forcibly calm, and nodded towards the guards to take the patient away. Jensen didn’t believe for one second that she hadn’t noticed the bathrobe belt dangling from the ceiling.

“And you, Mr. Ackles, can come with me to retrieve your papers. I won’t put up with such childish behavior and until I know what was _really_ going on here you’re banned from the facility.”

The words were final and Jensen accepted his fate uncontested. Quietly, he followed the blonde doctor into her office where he received his file along with a bunch of acidic stares.

“You better get a grip on your life, Mr. Ackles, or we’ll see each other very soon on this side of the fence,” Dr. Smith warned, stone-faced, as she escorted Jensen to the small staircase in front of her office. And though there was no malice laced with her words, Jensen could tell that she was still angry, irritated, wary.

“Okay,” Jensen replied calmly. “If you promise to take care of that patient of yours. He could need some help.”

Scoffing, Dr. Smith stalked back towards her office. “What this young man needs is a stable environment and his therapy,” she said, clutching the door. “But I doubt someone like you would understand.” And with a final shake of her head she closed the door insistently behind her.

“Yeah, sure,” Jensen replied bitterly and with a snort turned on his heels, walking down the hallway and past the snoring guard into the gentle breeze of a mild August evening.

 ♦ 

Jensen had decided not to take the bus home, choosing to walk instead. It was a fairly long march, but after being trapped inside the hospital for the better part of the day, walking unhindered felt like a nice diversion: his own, new-found freedom. It wouldn’t last long though, he guessed. Because tomorrow as soon as Dr. Smith called his probation officer, the authorities would track him down like it was their duty. He didn’t know what was going to happen then, though it sure as hell wasn’t going to be pleasant. But until then Jensen wanted to stroll down the streets like he had no care in the world, suit jacket thrown leisurely over his shoulder and hands buried deep inside his pockets.

He stopped by a small diner to grab a burger and fries and slapped the last bills he could dig up on the counter to pay for a vanilla milkshake, too. The sky was soaked with a dusky pink when Jensen stepped outside again, and he took a minute to take it in: its wideness, the gloom, and the swirl of colors blooming along the blurry horizon. The city was humming with traffic and still when he closed his eyes and tilted his head just the right way, Jensen could imagine the sound of the waves crashing into the shoreline far beyond the outskirts of the city. It was a comforting thought: that no matter what else he went through—debts, speeding tickets, failed business plans, false friends—the ocean with its gentle waves and sandy shores would outlast them all.

When Jensen popped his eyes open again, he felt a sort of bright serenity settling inside his chest, making him lightheaded. For a brief moment he felt like someone was watching him, but when he turned around the parking lot was deserted, and with a shrug Jensen turned homeward.

Once inside his small apartment, Jensen immediately sat down and unwrapped the greasy food he’d purchased earlier from its paper wrappings. The burger turned out to taste mediocre at best, but the fries were good enough to satisfy Jensen’s sudden craving for junk food. From where he was seated at the kitchen table, he could see the first stars blearily blinking awake on the twilight veil. The light coming from the single overhead was yellow and bleak enough to leave the small kitchen area dim, hiding all the flaws and detriments in merciful shadows. After his business had crumbled, Jensen quickly found himself in the situation of being unable to pay for his fancy loft any longer, and after two weeks of bargaining with himself and the landlord he had exchanged his penthouse for a small apartment downtown, far away from the glamour and glitter of his former life. At first it had been a complete disaster, but after a few weeks Jensen had adjusted to having to turn on the bathroom faucet before he could flush. He had gotten used to the neighbor’s constant knocking against the walls and the angry buzzing of the traffic down the street. The smell of rotten wood had grown on him somewhat, and some days when he woke up and stepped outside to greet the upstairs neighbor’s mutt on the lawn, he even felt a little at home.

Walking over to the living room area, Jensen turned on the shoddy tv before he went to change into something more comfortable. The air was still stifling inside his small apartment, and after giving it a second thought, he grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt and wandered off into the bathroom, turning on the cold spray in the hopes that tonight the water might actually warm up. It seemed like he was in luck today; when he stepped under the water a few minutes later he found it pleasantly warm and actually clear instead of rusty-brown.

Jensen made good use of the unexpected opportunity and showered for a good fifteen minutes. He tried not to let his mind wander back to the day’s disturbing events, but as soon as the water began to rush down his back, Jensen found himself thinking about the gentle curve of soft red lips and the accusing stare of big, glassy eyes. He had to shake his head twice to get rid of the image and the feeling of a dead weight in his arms before he managed to rinse off.

Refreshed and and with his skin scrubbed rosy pink, he slipped into the sweatpants and a muscle shirt he’d grabbed earlier and stepped out of the steamy room. He was already halfway to the shabby sofa he’d purchased at a yard sale last month, when a tentative knock on the door stopped him in his tracks.

“Huh?” He let out an irritated huff and begrudgingly stalked over to the front door. He didn’t expect any visitors, especially not this far into the evening, but he still swung the door open at the second knock. And then there was deafening silence as Jensen flat-out gaped at the person on his doorstep: chestnut hair tugged into a messy ponytail, foxy eyes, white pajama bottoms and a pair of socked feet with their toes buried in Jensen’s doormat.

“You?” Jensen blurted out in surprise. He could already feel his heart picking up speed and something unpleasant stirring inside his stomach.

“Hello,” the young man replied with a voice still raspy, and gave a small wave. Despite the insufferable temperatures outside, he was now wearing a knitted sweater: fir-tree green and with a few holes in the rolled-up sleeves and along the hem.

“What? _No_! Not hello. What are you doing here?” Jensen managed to breathe out, still staring incredulously at the stranger.

“I want to stay with you.”

Jensen didn’t know what to say. His mouth fell open and slowly his palm started to go clammy where it rested on the doorknob. Something inside his chest clenched painfully tight, and for the duration of a few heartbeats Jensen was convinced someone was playing a sick joke on him. This couldn’t be real, could it? What was this kid doing here?

Clutching the doorknob tighter, Jensen scrambled for coherence. “You… you _what_? What are you doing here?”

The young man seemed to be completely unfazed by Jensen’s inner turmoil and instead repeated his words, this time a little clearer and loud enough to echo from the hallway walls.

“I want to stay with you,” he said and actually had the audacity to step a little closer. It hit Jensen right then that this guy was completely serious.

“But you can’t stay with me, what’s wrong with you? You don’t even know me, goddamn it. How did you get here anyway?”

The young man cocked his head. “I followed you,” he said matter-of-factly and clasped his hands around the straps of his backpack.

Jensen groaned. “Yeah, because that’s not creepy at all,” he mumbled mostly to himself, before scrubbing a hand across his face. He was still utterly alarmed, but something about the way the stranger talked to him in this calm, serious tone made him feel like he wasn’t in any actual danger. It was _ridiculous_.

“I want to stay with you,” the young man told him again when Jensen didn’t come up with a reply in time and this time he even cracked a smile, a small, tentative curl of coral red lips in the fuzzy half-light of the hallway.

“That’s impossible,” Jensen heard himself stammer, then louder, more confident. “You’re not even supposed to be here. You belong into that hospital full of people who can actually help you. Especially since that stunt you tried to pull earlier today, remember?” The bruises were currently hidden by the sweater’s turtleneck but Jensen knew they were there, angry and red.

“I gotta bring you back, like right now. I’m gonna call Dr. Smith,” Jensen said and for the first time the young man didn’t seem calm anymore. When the hospital was brought up he had visibly flinched and now that Jensen mentioned concrete plans, the stranger showed definite signs of distress.

Letting go of the backpack’s straps, he anxiously wrung his hands. “No, please,” he whispered. “I don’t wanna go back.”

“How did you get out in the first place?” Jensen asked and it sounded a bit hysterical.

Shrugging, the young man tapped his foot against the doormat. “I walked out. Nobody asked me not to and the man by the door was asleep.” He seemed to be trying to sound nonchalant, but his voice was a little choked up when he said, “They don’t care about me. Can I stay with you?”

“Are you serious? What am I supposed to do with you? You can’t just turn up on my doorstep and expect me to not call the police. Or at least the clinic. You’re a patient in a locked-up facility and I bet there’s a reason for that.  I can’t help you. I can’t even help myself. Besides you don’t even know—”

Jensen was about to go on but one of his neighbors chose exactly that unlucky moment to step into the hallway, interrupting Jensen’s agitated monologue. It was one of the less friendly ones, and he immediately conveyed his resentment by glaring daggers at both Jensen and his unlikely guest. It was a little bit intimidating.

Jensen sighed. “Okay,” he mumbled towards the young man in front of him. “You can come in for a moment until the police gets here, okay?”

“Please, no police,” the stranger exclaimed and from the corners of his eyes, Jensen saw his gruffy neighbor perk up. Fantastic. The last thing he needed was that creepy guy latch onto something right now.

“Fine,” Jensen hissed, grabbing the young man by the shoulder. “No police then, but get your ass in here!” And with a last suspicious glance over his shoulder, Jensen pulled the stranger inside.

Once the door slammed shut, an awkward silence fell. The cramped entrance area of the apartment only allowed a small space between Jensen and the stranger, and suddenly things felt far more real, sincere in a way it made Jensen shudder out a strangled breath. He felt clumsy when he stepped out of shadows and into the light of the kitchen overheads, grabbing the phone book that was sitting on the table. Quietly cursing his earlier thoughtlessness when he had dumped the piece of paper with the hospital’s address in the garbage by the fast food restaurant, he started flipping through the pages.

“This might take a while I guess,” he said into the eerie silence. “You can come in if you want. Sit down.”

The young man took the suggestion with a nod, and after having brushed his dirty socks several times against the doormat he quietly stepped into the cone of yellow light, looking around. There wasn’t much to see in Jensen’s apartment apart from the cracks in the walls and the dribbling sink, but the stranger seemed to take interest in the simple things. Wordlessly, he ignored Jensen’s order to take a seat and instead walked over to the colorful pictures pinned to the fridge. They showed mostly people from Jensen’s past: friends, lovers, colleagues, business partners. A few photos of the family were scattered between take-out menus and reminders of unpaid bills and Jensen shifted uncomfortably on his feet when the stranger’s gaze swept over the familiar faces.

“Is that your friend?” the young man asked after a few moments of silence, his finger gently tapping against a picture next to a wedding invitation. It showed Jensen in an intimate embrace with a woman, their foreheads tipped together and their eyes closed. They were smiling and a tender breeze brushed through their hair.

Jensen scoffed. “Not anymore,” he replied bitterly and dropped the phone book back on the table top, stepping up next to his guest.

“What happened?” the stranger asked in a soft voice.

“Beats me. We were happy until one day we weren’t and she took off with my brother.”

The stranger watched in silence when Jensen brushed a thumb over the mildly faded photo and Jensen appreciated the quiet consolation. It felt good to talk to someone other than the moths on the wall.

“They’re gonna get married in a few days, she and Josh. Invited me,” Jensen said and pointed at the elegant white envelope pinned to the smooth surface of the fridge. “Joshua asked her on Christmas last year and now they’re really going for it. Feels weird, man.”

With his hazel eyes glued to the pictures, the young visitor nodded, then smiled. “I can be your new friend,” he suggested in a hushed, sincere voice.

Jensen felt a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth and for a moment warmth bloomed in his chest, until he remembered what kind of a fucked-up situation they were stuck in  and what had brought them together in the first place. He returned to the kitchen table with a sigh.

“I, um. I don’t think this is a good idea,” he said clumsily and picked up the phone book again, this time flipping through the pages in earnest.

While Jensen was busy trying to remember the hospital’s name, the young man eventually turned away from the flood of pictures on the fridge and wandered off into the living room, eyes curiously sweeping across the sparse furniture and a few silly things Jensen kept around for the sake of sentimental attachment. He didn’t touch anything, but whenever Jensen looked up from his hunt for the right address he saw the stranger intently staring at the ugly throw pillows that came with the couch or the hastily scribbled notes on the coffee table. It seemed like he wanted to soak in as much as possible. and Jensen was kind of endeared by his guest’s complete lack of understanding of boundaries. It was the strangest thing, especially since Jensen usually felt easily threatened in his privacy, but still—

“I like your home,” the young man stated after he was done inspecting the books on the window sil.

Jensen huffed out a laugh. “Well, it sure is something, right?” He followed his guest into the living room. “You should’ve seen my other apartment though, it would’ve taken you ages to go through my stuff back then. It was at the other end of the city and from the roof-deck you could see the ocean.”

A steep crease appeared between the stranger’s eyes during Jensen’s speech. “Why did you leave?” he asked a few moments later, clearly confused as to why Jensen had made such a foolish decision. Little did he know.

“It was… necessary,” was Jensen’s clipped reply, and the words felt unwieldy and awkward. Suddenly uncomfortable, Jensen flopped down on the sofa with a sigh. He had the phone book still in hand and his cell phone ready on the armrest.

“Heck, this is going to take forever,” he mumbled as he flipped a few pages in the H-section of the book, eyes squinted against the dim light. “Do you know the name of the hospital?”

The young man was still standing in the middle of the room. His hands were clutching the straps of his backpack again and his feet shifted anxiously on the cheap plastic floor.

“I don’t wanna go back,” he replied in a small voice and Jensen rolled his eyes.

“But you can’t stay here either, so what do you expect me to do with you, huh?”

The stranger ducked his head to avoid Jensen’s piercing gaze. “I want to stay with you.”

“This again?” Jensen asked with a hint of annoyance in his voice, making the question sound sharp. “Didn’t I make it clear as to why you can’t stay here? With me?”

The young man shook his head. “No,” he replied defiantly. “I want to stay with you,”

Letting out an exasperated grunt, Jensen got up from where he was sprawled on the sofa and walked over to his guest. “That’s it. I’m gonna say something and I want you to listen to me very carefully right now, because I sure ain’t gonna repeat myself again, okay?”

No reaction.

“Hello. Ground control to Major Tom! Do you copy?” Jensen inquired further and on a whim he grabbed the stranger’s bony wrists, accidentally pulling him closer.

The young man gave a small, uncertain nod and Jensen decided it was enough despite his guest’s refusal to meet Jensen’s eyes.

“Okay, so here’s the thing: you really need to get that idea out of your head, you hear me? You had a crappy day, I get it, I really do, but you gotta let those people in the hospital help you. I’m a mess, my life is a mess, and the last thing I need is someone I gotta to take care of. You’re obviously not okay and I’m not a professional; I’ve zero experience with… people like you. You can’t stay with me. I’m not a good person. Fuck’s sakes, I don’t even know your name.”

Afterward Jensen took a deep breath and only then did he realize that he had been brushing his thumbs across the young man’s pulse points the entire time.

Silence fell for a long while and if the stranger resented the gentle touches, he didn’t let it show. Instead he continued to stand there, head hung low and eyes hidden by his floppy bangs. The only movement came from the the frail rising of his chest. He seemed strangely comfortable in their awkward stand-off and for a moment Jensen got lost in the shadows their bodies were painting on the floor. The light coming from the kitchen had drawn them much closer together, their heads almost resting together and their feet brushing. There was a serene intimacy in the way their chests moved together, bodies falling into each other and their hands intertwined in the inky dark, fingers linked together.

“It’s Jared,” a small voice announced eventually and it took Jensen a few beats to break away from their entangled shadows.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Jared,” the young man replied and finally looked up from beneath a curtain of bangs, eyes big and hazel and red-rimmed.

Sighing, Jensen let go of Jared’s wrist and clumsily shook his hand instead. “I’m Jensen. Nice to, um, meet you,” he said and then stepped back, clearing his throat.

“I don’t want to go,” Jared said before Jensen could looe another word about the hospital. “I wanna stay with you. I hate the clinic. I… I don’t like the people there. I like you.”

Jensen wanted to say something in return but the urgent insistence in Jared’s words stunned him into silence, leaving Jared room to go on.

“I want to be with you, just until tomorrow. Just… just one night, okay? Please don’t make me go back.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jared,” Jensen replied and god, how _good_ Jared’s name tasted, how easily it rolled off his tongue. “What am I supposed to do with you? You can’t just show up at people’s doors and expect them to take you in. That’s not how things work around here.”

Jared’s eyes were glassy when he looked up again, his face contorted into a pleading mask and fingers nervously fumbling with a few loose threads on  the seam of his sweater. “ _Please_ ,” he begged. “Just until tomorrow.”

Staring into Jared’s wide eyes, Jensen felt his defenses crumble, and with a heartfelt groan he nodded reluctantly. “Fine,” he heard himself grind out between gritted teeth. “But only until tomorrow and until I’ve figured out the name of the damn clinic! Deal?”

The unabashed smile Jared cracked instead of an answer was radiant, blinding, and Jensen watched a pair of dimples digging into his guest’s cheeks in unchallenged perfection. It was the single most beautiful thing Jensen had seen in months and he kept on soaking it in until the moment had passed.

With a sigh, Jensen dropped his suddenly exhausted body back on the couch again and rubbed a hand across his face. This was just fantastic. Fuck his life.

“Only until tomorrow,” Jared whispered into the heavy silence and it felt like the pressure was a little less overwhelming afterward, the air a little less stifling.

They were both screwed, one way or the other, but so what? No one was saying they couldn't be fucked-up together, right? And it was just one night after all; what could possibly go wrong?


	2. Chapter 2

Jensen woke up to the sound of his phone buzzing insistently on the coffee table. Groaning, he sat up and managed to reach for it. The name flashing on the display was his probation officer’s and with a suddenly churning stomach Jensen accepted the call.

“Kim, hey, I was just about to call you,” Jensen lied unabashedly, scrubbing a hand across his face. Sleep was still lingering in his bones and after a night on the sofa he didn’t feel particularly refreshed.

“I’m sure you were,” the woman on the other end of the line snorted fondly. “So, I just got a call from the St. Pennywise Memorial hospital. Care to explain?”

St. Pennywise Memorial, the missing piece.

Jensen sighed. “I, uh, I kinda screwed up again?” he tried while keeping his voice low as to not wake his guest. Jared had reluctantly crawled under the covers of Jensen’s bed around midnight and seemed still sound asleep, socked feet sticking out from under the covers.

“Figures,” Kim shot back, sounding worried rather than angry. “Dr. Smith called yesterday and said you got involved with one of her patients?”

Jensen had to hold back a hysteric laugh and he kept his eyes a little longer on the outlines of Jared’s lean silhouette under the blanket. “Kinda. Did she say anything else?”

“Not really, just that she wants to swap you out with someone else in the program. She didn’t seem very fond of you and asked me to send the person next in line. Someone _less dense,_ as she so nicely put it.”

“Yeah, we weren’t exactly about to enter the best friends club,” Jensen admitted as he got up to make some coffee. “What does that mean for me, though?”

There was some rustling of paper at the other end of the line and Kim took her time hammering a few words into her laptop before she started talking again. “Well, considering the circumstances, not all that much. Dr. Smith didn’t explicitly justify her decision—just asked for a replacement. Legally you’re fine, and as far as we’re concerned you’re golden, too, as long as you accept another job in place of the hospital maintenance.”

Jensen could almost feel the weight crashing from his shoulders and with a deep-drawn sigh he turned on the coffee maker before sitting down at the kitchen table. “That’s good news. Like, really, _really_ good news.”

The woman laughed. “You sound like you needed them,” More clicking of the laptop’s keys wafted through the crackling line and then Kim continued. “So cowboy, what’s it gonna be? Garden center or soup kitchen, your choice.”

Scratching his chin clumsily, Jensen pinned the phone between his shoulder and head to reach for the orphaned phone book on the table top. It had been sitting there all night, untouched and judging him silently.

“Actually I was kinda hoping you could do me a little favor,” Jensen mumbled, then cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, yeah. I have this family thing coming up, a wedding. I was kinda hoping you could delay the new assignment until next week?”

Kim let out a huff. “Jensen, that’s like a really big deal.”

“I know,” Jensen jumped in, already feeling a blush creeping up his cheeks. “I was just hoping, you know, since it’s my family and all. And it would only be until after the weekend, I promise.”

The woman on the other end of the line took a deep breath and after half a minute’s worth of hammering away on the laptop’s keys she finally replied in a serious tone.

“I can try to get you into a program starting next Monday—”

“Really?”

Kim snorted. “Yeah, but you gotta promise me to be back in town to make it. This is your last chance, honey. If you screw this one up they’ll kick you out of the program and hold you to the sum you owe. No take-backs.”

Relief rushed through Jensen for the second time this morning. Finally he felt like things were starting to look up for him again. With a frantic nod, he pushed himself to his feet.

“Yeah, sure. Pinky promise!” he said into the speaker, pouring himself and his guest a cup of coffee each.

“And what about your job, Jensen? You still have it, do you?” Kim asked, a sharp edge to her voice.

Jensen snorted. “Of course I do. Mrs. Tom isn’t letting me out of this easily. She gave me two weeks off duty to finish my community service it’s all good.”

“You sure?” the woman asked, sounding concerned again.

“One hundred percent, Kim. Trust me, I’ll be back in time to join the program and everything will be a-okay. No biggie.”

Kim laughed again and this time it sounded a little more strained. “Why do I feel like I just made a horrible mistake?” she said and was already hammering away at her keyboard again while Jensen was still searching for an appropriate reply.

They kept on chatting for another minute or two until Kim had to leave for her next appointment. She dictated Jensen the address for Monday—which he duly noted—and asked him to keep his cell phone close before she bid him goodbye with a reminder not to blow this one. Jensen nodded, and when he put the phone down again he felt light-headed and giddy.

This was it. The universe was finally giving him a thumbs-up. Now he only had to bring his unlikely guest back to the hospital, get a present and travel all the way down to the wedding by Friday and he would be just peachy. Easy, right?

It turned out not to be all that easy, of course. If talking Jared out of bed had proven to be a challenge then getting him to leave the apartment was near impossible. Both hands curled around the half-empty vanilla milkshake Jensen had forgotten to finish the evening before, he stood in the doorway with a frown, socked feet firmly planted on the threshold. His cheeks were tinged red and his lips quivering in distress.

“I’m not coming,” he said for what had to be the tenth time, foxy eyes hard. “I’m not coming.”

Jensen let out a groan. “C’mon Jared, don’t be like that. I have an appointment to meet and you promised—”

“Not coming,” Jared replied insistently.

“So what are you plan on doing then, huh? You just gonna stay here until I call the cops? Because I can do that, too.”

Jared winced at the words, but firmly held his ground. The look on his face was fierce. “If we’re going back to the hospital, then I’m not coming. I don’t wanna go back.”

“Let me guess, you wanna stay with me?” Jensen suggested sardonically, rolling his eyes in annoyance. This was ridiculous.

Jared nodded, biting his lip to keep it from trembling.

Letting out a long stream of air, Jensen crossed his arms in front of his chest. The suitcase he had packed earlier stood forgotten by the door, waiting to be picked up and dragged all the way down to a sleepy town roughly two hundred miles away.

“Honestly Jared, I don’t know why you’re doing this to me? I’ve been nothing but good to you. Yesterday you wanted to come inside, so I let you in. You wanted to stay for one night and I agreed to that, too. I even let you sleep in my bed.”

Jared nodded solemnly.

“We had a deal, you and I, remember? I did my part, now it’s your turn to do the same. You promised.”

It seemed like Jared’s stance faltered a bit, but still he was unmoving and his gaze stern when he locked eyes with Jensen. “I lied,” he replied and his voice sounded so small but defiant Jensen couldn’t hold back a smile.

“Seems like it,” he sighed, then shook his head for what seemed like the upteenth time this morning. His guest really was a pain in the ass, but Jensen was tired of arguing.

“So what do you suggest, then? You don’t wanna go back, but you can’t stay with me either. I told you I was gonna leave today for the wedding, remember?”

“Is that what the suitcase is for?”

“Yes.”

Jared’s gaze flitted towards the object in question and fell silent for a while, seemingly trying to come up with a different plan. He was still sipping on the stale vanilla milkshake and his pink lips were shiny with sugar and cream.

“I could come with you,” he said eventually and then as if he just had convinced himself of a fantastic idea, he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I could come with you to be your friend at the wedding.”

Jensen visibly tensed, then sighed. “Not an option,” he replied harshly.

“But I could be your friend so you wouldn’t have to go alone. We could go together and see your brother and his friend dance. That’s what people do at weddings, right?” Jared argued and Jensen felt his chest cramping at the bright gleam in Jared’s eyes, the way his fingers raked excitedly through his greasy hair.

“You really don’t want to go back, huh?” he asked after a brief moment of consideration, watching Jared shake his head.

“No,” his guest replied stiffly before he emptied the shake with a slurp.

Jensen’s mind was spinning. He needed a good strategy for how to handle the situation, and he needed it soon. Anything would suffice, he thought, but quickly had to admit that he was at a loss for options. He had never been good with people—one reason why Sookie had left him for Josh he supposed—and he was a stranger to persuasion. He was half tempted to just run out of the apartment and leave Jared to his own devices, but quickly discarded the idea as stupid and dangerous. Besides as strange as it sounded even to his own, messed-up self, he had come to appreciate Jared’s gentle presence a little bit.

Jensen didn’t know what made him relent, but it didn’t matter anyway.

“Come on, Jared,” he heard himself say as the familiar feeling of reckless abandonment settled inside his chest. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Jared asked, slightly alarmed and still clutching the plastic cup to his chest. “To the hospital?”

“Nah,” Jensen simply replied and grabbed his suitcase. “Out of here,” he said and to his immense surprise and relief it seemed to be enough for Jared to make him follow Jensen through the front door and outside where they hailed a cab.

 ♦ 

It was a good thing Jensen had searched his apartment for some coins earlier on top of raiding his piggy bank for at least a few crumpled bills before leaving, and he sighed when he slapped a good part of it into the cab driver’s waiting palm once they stopped at the bus station. They had passed the hospital on their way and Jensen had been glad to see Jared in the backseat looking the other way when he noticed several police cars in front of the building. So there it had been, the small window of opportunity to return Jared to the clinic, but no matter how much Jensen tried to will his tongue to move, he just couldn’t bring himself to tell the driver to stop. With guilt churning inside his belly and both hands clamped onto the seat cushion, he had been sitting there, waiting, not breathing until the car had flown past the building, all the while thinking about Jared’s lithe figure balancing on the chair. And yeah, maybe his actions did make him a criminal there, but if it hadn’t been for him, Jared would be dead right now. None of those people inside the hospital had cared enough to notice his death wish and if Jensen did feel a little bit responsible it was no one else’s business. Sue him.

“Are we gonna take the bus?” Jared asked as he came crawling out of the cab. His voice was vibrating with anticipation and he was bouncing on his heels.

Jensen was busy counting how much money he had left—a laughable ninety bucks,  just about enough to get two people out of town, and then what?—and only grunted in reply. He had taken the Greyhound a few times before and couldn’t quite grasp Jared’s utter excitement at the perspective of a long ride inside a hot, cramped vehicle with no air condition or distraction from the tires’ steady hum against the road.

But Jared’s amazement didn’t cease and he kept rambling on until they stepped inside the cramped bus station, where he immediately went very quiet as soon as they entered the crowd.

“Everything okay?” Jensen asked at the sudden lack of chattering and turned around just to see Jared duck his head, hands back to clutching the backpack’s straps in a death grip. Uneasiness had shifted his features from excitement into a mask of trepidation and he looked more like a lost puppy than ever. It was answer enough.

Together they made their way through the maze of idly chatting people inside the bus station hall, Jared on Jensen’s heels and with his ragged breath clouding against Jensen’s neck. At some point Jensen had grabbed Jared’s elbow to better navigate them through the crowd and it was almost ridiculous how easily Jared adjusted to the gentle guidance, how well they worked together.

Once they had checked the departure times—next bus in half an hour—Jensen led Jared to a less packed place outside the hall to sit down on a small bench. He told him to stay exactly where he was before he dove into the crowd again to fetch them some hotdogs and soda for a quick brunch, paying with five one dollar bills and leaving no tip. On his way back he tried to feed his credit card into one of the ATMs, but instead of money only got the message to balance his bank account or call the service center. Jensen was tempted to throw the useless plastic card in the trash after that, but instead, he walked up to one of the ticket machines and bought them a ticket each for their trip with the last four twenty dollars he had.

He came back, finding Jared exactly where he had left him, with his knees tucked up against his chest.

“I hope you like hotdogs?” Jensen mumbled as he handed Jared his share of the sparse meal and a cup of soda.

Jared nodded, his bangs whipping against his forehead. “I wasn’t allowed hotdogs when I lived with my mom. She said that carbs are dangerous and would make me fat and lazy like my dad. But nurse Gen promised me it’s okay to have junk food now and then.”

Jensen couldn’t argue with that and took a big bite from his own hot dog while he watched Jared dig in as well.

“Nurse Gen calls it soul food,” Jared explained around a mouthful of sausage and bun, grinning. “Maybe that’s why she eats her fries with chocolate syrup.”

Jensen didn’t what to say so he kept on chewing, nodding slowly as if he understood a word of what Jared was saying. He was full of riddles, his new travel companion. Skinny and fragile and beautiful and so full of wonder. He didn’t seem to mind the patched-up shirt Jensen was wearing, and that his Armani shoes had seen better days. Instead Jared smiled whenever a bird passed by, licked mustard from his fingers unabashedly, laughed at Jensen’s attempt to finish half of his hotdog in one immense bite. People seemed to scare him, as did touches, but neither rule seemed to apply to Jensen. He was quiet and still clad in those terrible, pale clinic clothes and with his chin propped up on his bent knees he looked very small.

“Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?” Jensen asked after he swallowed the last bite of his food. He hadn’t even realized he had opened his mouth until the words came tumbling out, but apparently he had questions. Questions that thirsted for an answer.

Wiggling his toes, Jared cast his eyes down to his socked feet. “I don’t like them. My feet feel trapped in them,” he explained and smiled sheepishly at Jensen’s quizzical gaze.

Jensen couldn’t help but laugh. “But socks are okay?”

“Yeah, socks are alright,” Jared confirmed, nodding. “I don’t like them either, but Nurse Gen says I can’t walk around with bare feet all day or I’ll get a cold.”

“Understood,” Jensen said after he had joined Jared in watching his wiggling toes for a while. “Though I gotta say it’s highly unlikely you’ll catch a cold in this heat.”

Jared smiled at that, and nodded. “Yeah,” he said dreamily, and tugged a few specks of dirt from his dust-smudged socks. They had holes in them and were caked with dirt and reminded Jensen of a time when he wasn’t measured by the numbers on his paycheck.

“Hey, I got something for you,” Jensen picked up the conversation after a moment. “It’s your ticket. Here.”

Fishing the small strip of paper out of his suit jacket, Jensen handed the ticket over to Jared, who was watching and chewing with eyes as wide as saucers.

“What’s it for?” he asked in astonishment as he grabbed and turned the clean paper in his hand, brows scrunching together as he slowly read the words printed on the smooth surface.

Jensen snickered. “You’re going to need it before we hop on the bus. A… uh, a guy will be waiting by the door to check if everything’s in order. You gotta show him your ticket so he can make a little mark on it.”

“Why does he need to make a mark on it?” Jared asked and was still eying the ticket with a scrutinizing gaze. “I thought it was _my_ ticket?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, it sure is,” Jensen replied and took a sip from his soda. “He’ll give it back to you after he stamps it. Just keep it safe until then and make sure you don’t lose it.”

Jared nodded solemnly. “Do you have one, too? A ticket I mean.”

“Sure,” Jensen mumbled, showing off his. “Gotta play by the rules.”

Jared’s face was full of genuine curiosity and he carefully slipped the ticket inside the pocket of his backpack before picking up his hotdog again and finishing it off with a big bite.

They sat on the bench together until it was time to leave. The clock was ticking towards noon and the sun sat high in its position in a cloudless sky, turning their short walk down the pavement into something close to exertion. Jensen could feel his shirt sticking to his back as he dragged his suitcase towards the waiting bus, and briefly he wondered how Jared must feel beneath his fir-green pullover with the holes down the sleeves and a threadbare seam.

They reached the bus stop in time and Jensen murmured “Stay close,” as soon as people started to filter into the bus. The doors and windows stood wide open, and Jensen groaned as he pushed inside the wheezing vehicle, a fidgeting and shaking Jared on his heels. People were pressing against them left and right, children whining in the front seats. The recorded voice of a woman crackled through the speakers to announce the bus’ immediate departure and still more people swelled into the Greyhound until every last seat was taken. Trying to cleave a passage through the masses, Jensen made sure that Jared in his utter silence didn’t get lost and together they inched to the far back of the bus to hopefully find a spot by the window.

It took them quite a while to find two vacant seats next to each other and once they had settled down, Jensen allowed himself a shallow breath.The air inside the bus was impossibly stifling, humid, suffocating. The seat cushions were blotched with dark stains, the curtains in front of the windows riddled with the stench of humans and cold smoke. But at least it was quiet back there at the end of a long row of seats, and when the bus jerked into a slow trot, Jensen sank deeper into his seat.

“We’re moving,” Jared whispered. He was standing by the window, palms pressed against the smudged glass. After leaving the thick of the crowd behind, he had quickly grown comfortable again and his anxious stiffness had turned into blissful excitement, his eyes big and impossibly bright.

“That’s the general idea of traveling via bus, yes,” Jensen endorsed, directing his gaze from his watch towards Jared. “Have you ever been—”

“On a bus? No,” Jared cut in hastily and his whole composure was shaking with excitement, his fingers cramping against the glass. He was still wearing his backpack and sweat glistened on his brow.

Jensen didn’t know what to make of the unusual behavior of a man in his probably mid-twenties getting so wound up over riding a bus. It was… unusual. New. Innocent. Endearing. It reminded Jensen of those fairytales where the maidservant gets to see the world for the first time before eloping with the prince. Only that Jensen wasn’t a prince; he was neither rich nor well mannered, only a pretender.

“Mind if I...?” Jared muttered, trailing off as he pawed at the window handles, motioning as though to open the halfway splintered glass.

Jensen shrugged. “Sure,” he replied and the next thing he heard was the roaring of the headwind as it slipped into the vehicle, making dust whirl up from the floor and blowing the greasy curtains. Like a hurricane it whipped through Jared’s hair and danced across his face, twirled blissfully around the patch of curls behind his ears and bloated his sweater until the air inside the Greyhound smelled like salt on warm skin and laundry detergent.

“Look how fast we’re going!” Jared shouted over the ferocious howling and with a yip he stuck both hands out and into the storming wind, letting his whole self get swept up by the toss and turn.

“Look, Jensen, _look_!”

And Jensen looked and smiled at the sight of the immense joy Jared seemed to take from mere bus-riding and wind-catching. He was still wearing the clinic’s cruelly white pajama bottoms, but aside from that nothing of what Jensen witnessed reminded him of the quiet, fragile man that had tried to take his own life less than twenty-four hours ago.

Jared stood and watched the landscape fly by until his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed from the pressure of the wind. He smiled at the passing fields of golden wheat, waved to cars and people on bikes, watched the sun’s light rolling along the blank guard railing until it vanished into the red soil. He laughed when a stray dandelion seed got caught in his nostrils, then sneezed. He stuck his entire face out and into the glistening midday sun to let the bright beams lick over the edges of his jaw, humming contently and smiling to himself before letting go of the ledge and turning to crawl onto his spot. There he settled, right next to Jensen and his long, lean body stretching until his socked feet bumped against the row of seats in front of them.

Jensen yawned and did the same. Silence fell, gaping like an abyss and drowning out the noises coming from the front. The steady rattling of the tires against the concrete was suddenly too loud, and Jensen had to take a deep breath to calm his fluttering nerves. The moment was eerie and unsettling and reminded him of how clueless and lost he was as to what was going to happen next.

All his life, figuring out his next three steps had been his top priority: Go to kindergarden, go to school, go to college. Work hard, study harder, never give up. Graduate, get a job, always be one step ahead of everyone else. Make your way to the top, get a nice apartment, buy a shiny car. Marry, have children, settle down. He had it all planned, laid out like a puzzle he just needed to piece together. His life had been easy, comfortable, safe, until it wasn’t anymore. And now he was riding a Greyhound to nowhere with a guy he couldn’t figure out for the life of him, and hardly anything to his name but a pocket full of lies.

“Jensen?” Jared asked quietly and Jensen closed his eyes.

“Yeah?”

Shifting in his seat, Jared turned to look at Jensen. He was smiling and his floppy hair was hanging loosely around his face, framing those dimpled cheeks.

“I really like the bus,” he said with his smile growing wider. “Even though my pillow smells.” And with a frown, Jared pointed at the small, stiff cushion that was mounted to the top of his seat.

Jensen laughed at that and reached behind his head to hand Jared his own pillow, not caring about comfort.

“You can have mine,” he suggested and watched Jared grab the uncomfortable thing before awkwardly pressing it against the headrest. “I was never one to fall asleep on the bus.”

Jared’s face scrunched up in curiosity. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen shrugged, wincing a little bit at the pang he had been rewarded with after his night on the sofa. “It’s too loud, I guess. Not a fan of the constant rattling either. I was always a light sleeper, or so my mom used to say. You know, having trouble falling asleep during thunderstorms and all that when I was a child.”

Jared’s face turned towards the window again and after some wiggling he settled into the upcoming silence. It took him quite a while to pick up the conversation again in a small voice.

“They gave us pills in the clinic when we couldn’t sleep,” he whispered. “Big, white ones; and two small orange ones against nightmares.”

Jensen felt his stomach plummet. “Did you have to take a lot of pills?”

“Yes,” Jared said softly. “Every day. Against the sadness, Nurse Gen said. And because I was scared all the time. People scared me. People and new places.”

It left a lot unsaid and it seemed like the silence and the heavy secrets that were glued to it were just as inseparably connected to Jared’s story as the pair of mud-caked socks he left dangling from the seat’s edge.

After a moment of silence, Jensen felt compelled to ask. “Are you scared right now?”

“No,” Jared replied in that serene, gentle tone that had Jensen’s toes curl and his heart flutter like a trapped sparrow. “No, I’m not scared.”

“Good.” Jensen shifted until he could reach his suitcase, snatching a magazine from the top pocket.

“Are you?”

Jensen smiled against the yellowed pages of the magazine. “No Jared, I’m not scared either,” he said and wanted so badly for it to be true.

Truth to be told Jensen was scared half to death most of the time, and angry and defeated once the fear subsided. But he was wearing the mask his family had conditioned him to like a champ: sleek, smooth, polished; the look of a business owner. The face of a man who paid his rent in time, had his bank account in check and didn’t hide a stock of unopened, unacknowledged letters in the top drawer of his desk. A man who liked to go to cocktail parties and cared about the economy, expensive suits and the stock market. A man who enjoyed the deep timbre of an exquisite whiskey and liked to recite from his own portfolio. Jensen was none of these things—not anymore—yet still he sustained the facade of the well-attuned, successful businessman and caring son, the unafraid brother, the hard-working stepson.

The question was: how long would his masquerade work with the wedding around the corner and him being out of money, out of ideas and fresh out of fucks to give?

 ♦ 

Somewhere between the bus’ steady up and down, the noisy clatter of the windows in their frames and the quiet rustling of the magazine pages turning in Jensen’s hands, Jared must have fallen asleep. Or so Jensen assumed when he heard the startled gasp Jared made when the bus abruptly came to a halt after swerving around for the stretch of a few minutes.

The sun was hanging low above the horizon outside the window and the shadows inside the cramped cabin had grown larger. Above them, the blown-out speakers crackled to life and a blasé voice announced a technical issue with the bus’ engine. “Due to an extensive detour, we’re currently located in Austwell and this bus will not be able to continue on its route. There will, however, be compensation, and you’re advised to call customer service for further instructions.” A many-voiced groan went through the Greyhound’s steel carcass and soon the first people in the front got up to gather their luggage from the racks. The driver’s indifference to the unfortunate position of his passengers was clear as day and a surprise to no one.

“What happened?” Jared asked, bewildered, and with sleep lines running down his cheeks where his face had been resting against his backpack.

Jensen shrugged. “Something’s wrong with the bus and we gotta get out.”

“So soon?” Jared whined, looking crestfallen.

Jensen didn’t know what to do with Jared’s disappointment. “I’m sorry,” he said and pulled his suitcase out of the cramped foot space before joining the row of passengers waiting to get off the coughing bus.

Once outside, the crowd of complaining people quickly dissolved to flee the glaring sun and soon Jared and Jensen were the only ones on the side of the road. Slamming his suitcase on the ground without too much care, Jensen waited until the bus had stuttered away at an offensively slow pace before he eyed the sign that was nailed crookedly to the small brick cabin by the bus stop.

“Just perfect,” he groaned as he read the sun-bleached letters. Red dirt was clinging to the building’s withered facade and the windows were barred, half of the roof missing. A few beat-up cars waited in the otherwise deserted parking lot and the air smelled tangy. It was eerily quiet and Jensen shivered. This was just another sleepy little town along the coast: barren, boring, deserted by everyone with common sense.

Jared didn’t seem to mind the complete absence of any resemblance of civilization as they walked away from the bus stop and down a poorly paved road. Instead he was counting the cracks in the dust-covered asphalt and humming to himself.

“What are we going to do now?” he asked eventually, and with a yip in his voice.

A little helpless, Jensen shrugged. “Find ourselves a ride, I guess,” he said in a low voice and let out a huff. “Though I’m not sure that’s at all possible in this godforsaken town. Man, it feels like the odds are really stacked against us, doesn’t it? Maybe we should just let it go and get back home, see that you get back to your hospital.”

“But I don’t want to,” Jared replied scowling, voice laced with panic. “I wanna come with you.”

Holding up his empty palms in appeasement, Jensen laughed quietly. “Alright, alright. You come with me and we’ll figure this out then, deal?”

Jared’s whole face lit up as he slipped his hand into the palm Jensen offered. With a firm squeeze they sealed the deal and Jensen tried not think too much about the feeling of Jared’s warm, sticky fingers against his, or how his stomach flipped when their skin brushed together, how his heart squeezed at Jared’s easy smile.

“Deal,” Jared replied and waited until Jensen had buckled up his suitcase before they kept moving in the same direction.

They stopped at a small store to grab some water and something to eat, and Jared wandered down the aisles with eyes wide in awe and his fingers digging into the wool of his sweater’s sleeves. He kept making little _ah_ and _oh_ sounds as he carefully picked up boxes and bags of junk food just to set them back onto the shelves again, brushing his fingers along scribbled price tags. The air inside the shop was stifled and cool and while Jensen asked the cashier for directions, Jared stood in front of a fan for as long as possible to let his hair be ruffled by the airstream. His cheeks were flushed by the heat and sweat was clinging to the curve of his upper lip.

“So,” Jensen stated matter-of-factly once they stepped into the late afternoon heat again. “There’s no inn or motel in this town.”

Blinking into the orange sunlight, Jared made a noncommittal grunt.

“Do you know what that means?” Jensen asked after chugging half a bottle of water. He had have enough cash to pay for a water each, a pack of plain crackers and some gum.

“Means that we have to sleep outside,” Jared replied with a smile. “Like camping.”

Jensen nodded, sighing heavily. “Only we have no tent or sleeping bags. Makes this whole thing a lot less pleasant than a simple camping trip. The guy inside that store said there’s a pawn shop on the other side of town and I thought maybe I can sell off my stuff to get some cash. But it’s already closed. So looks like we’re stranded in this godforsaken town for tonight.”

Jared seemed completely unfazed by Jensen’s concern and instead picked up a stone from the roadside, sliding it into his pocket. “I like being outside,” he mumbled and then turned to watch Jensen again.

“So where do we go?”

Jensen shrugged. “Don’t know, buddy. Where do you wanna go? Doesn’t matter to me, really. We can go left towards the treeline if you like, see if we find a campground maybe,”

Cocking his head, Jared squinted up the street they had come from. “And the other way?”

“Down the road? Not much. The clerk said a few more houses before the beach.”

Jared perked up. “The beach?”

“Yeah.”

“Can we go?” Jared’s voice was wavering ever so slightly, his eyes incredibly bright as he gazed up at Jensen with a pleading look.

Jensen felt Jared’s sudden urgency like a pinch in his stomach and with a gentle smile he nodded. “Have you ever been? To the beach I mean?”

“No,” Jared whispered. “No, never. But I want to… always wanted to. Please, let’s go… please, Jensen, take me to the beach. I wanna see it.”

Something inside Jensen’s chest uncurled and pulled, making his lungs tight and his heart stutter on a single, slow beat.  

“Yeah, sure,” he muttered and steadied Jared’s swaying frame with a gentle touch at his elbow. “Anything.”

Jared’s hand came up to fleetingly brush along Jensen’s collar and it was right there, at the side of a dirty road, with red dust covering their cheeks and their mouths dry from the summer’s heat, that Jensen’s world suddenly shifted.

 ♦ 

They walked in utter silence side by side, almost as if they were part of a procession, like their walk down the road and towards the beach was sacred, something pure and precious that needed to be cherished in silent devotion. Jared was fidgeting next to Jensen and when the silhouettes of the town’s cookie-cutter houses melted away to grant a better, brighter view on the yellow band of sand that was stretching behind the city limits, he stopped in his tracks until Jensen was a few steps ahead.

“Jared? What’s it? Come on, I thought you wanted to go to the beach?” Jensen asked as he walked down a few steps made of weathered wooden planks. “Changed your mind already?”

Jared remained rooted to the spot for another two or three heartbeats before he slowly shook his head. His eyes were reflecting the waves’ endless blur of green and blue, surging, shimmering, dancing around in messy swirls and creating foam on their crowns. Jared’s mouth hung open on a trail of quiet, unspoken words and his toes were digging into the sand beneath his feet. Then he started moving again, staggering towards Jensen and past him, down the path of planks and even further.

The air tasted like salt and dust and Jensen remembered Jared’s small steps, his hands clasped around the straps of his backpack as he approached the waterline. A sharp breeze was pulling Jared’s hair and his sweater was knitted and littered with holes and never in his life had Jensen seen anything as beautiful and gentle as the young man meeting the sea for the first time.

Eventually Jared was close enough so the water could reach his feet and soon his socks and the seams of his pants were soaked. Wave after wave came crashing in from the ocean, breaking at the cliffs until they turned into lazy little swirls, lapping at Jared’s feet and tickling his skin. Foam wafted on the deep blue dunes, and for a long, long while Jared did nothing but stand right there in the water, on a deserted beach and with his feet firmly planted into the slick sand.

Briefly Jensen considered walking up to Jared, to stand next to him until their feet got cold and their toes turned stiff from the crystal clear water. But the sight of Jared’s lonely figure amidst the waves was an image of such serene intensity that Jensen didn’t dare to interrupt. So instead he dragged his suitcase to a nearby dune where he plopped down in the sand.

Soon the sun would dip into the horizon and even now the sky was ablaze with a myriad of surreal colors: orange, pink, fiery red and blue as dark as ink. The wind picked up while Jensen dug in his pockets for the crackers, and while he chewed on the dry snack, the first stars made an early appearance on the glowing horizon. Sometime between the fourth and fifth cracker, Jared had started to move again, only this time he was walking along the shoreline instead of wading into it. Waves were gurgling around his ankles and water splashed whenever he bend down to pick up a shell, a stone, a piece of green glass. Sometimes he would turn around and wave at Jensen with a shy smile and Jensen replied with a grin. Everytime.

When Jared did return to where Jensen had settled down, dusk had fallen and with it the temperatures. The sky was still lit with the smudged reminders of an orange sunset and the shadows between the dunes were soft and lilac.

“Hey buddy,” Jensen greeted his approaching friend and smiled at him. “Had your fill?”

Jared sat down gingerly, shaking his head. “No,” he said quietly and still his eyes were glued to the steady up and down of the waves’ lazy tide. He looked like he’d fallen in love for the first time and Jensen felt his eyes prick at the look of utter awe on Jared’s features.

“Do you want to stay a little longer then?” Jensen asked, handing Jared a few crackers and a strip of gum. It was a meager dinner, but it would do.

Jensen took Jared’s solemn smile as a confirmation and after they had finished the package of crackers, Jensen stood and grabbed his suitcase. “Let’s walk a little,” he suggested and together they sauntered down the beach in the gentle twilight of the upcoming night.  

They followed the shoreline until they came to a small bay area. It nestled between two patches of jagged cliffs and hid the two late visitors away from prying eyes. The air smelled tangy and fresh and wind was howling up the slopes, carrying the boom of the waves into the darkening sky. Jared was busy picking up a few broken pieces of sea shells and sliding them into his already bursting full pockets while Jensen busied himself with collecting driftwood. There surely was a law against making campfires at the beach, but with the stiff breeze coming from the water and the dropping temperatures, their teeth would soon start to chatter. And Jared being soaked to the bone up to his waist wasn’t helping either.

Jared came back in time to watch Jensen pull out a lighter as he kneeled next to a small heap of wood he had stacked in a shallow pit. The branches were bleached from the sun and crackled quietly when the small orange flame of Jensen’s lighter licked across them.

“Are we gonna have a campfire?” Jared asked breathily and he settled down right next to Jensen, pulling his knees up to his chest.

Jensen nodded. “That okay with you?”

Jared’s answer was a content sigh as he stretched his arms to warm his clammy palms against the waking flames. Sand was stuck underneath his fingernails and caked to his pants and socks. Stones, shells and glass jingled quietly in his pockets whenever he moved and his cheeks were red and round like ripe apples. Astonishing what wonders a day under the sun could do to pale skin and hollow eyes.

They shared the the rest of Jensen’s water bottle as they watched the fire come to life and slowly the world grew dark around them. Waves were roaring beyond the shoreline and the silence between them was easy and welcome. The breeze was stiff, and soon Jensen had to feed the flames, the blaze crackling greedily when Jensen shoved more driftwood into its hungry mouth.

“You should take your socks off,” Jensen suggested when he returned to his spot to find Jared shivering, his teeth chattering quietly. “And those soaked pants, too, for that matter. Do you have any spare clothes in your backpack?”

Jared shrugged as he plucked his backpack from his shoulders, unbuckling the clasps. With shaking hands he began rummaging through it, shaking his head slightly. “No,” he then said gently and a little bit sheepish.

“Well, we gotta fix that, then, I guess,” Jensen replied and was already digging through his own luggage. He hadn’t packed much besides a stack of slacks and button-downs, but underneath it all he found the only pair of sweatpants he owned, pulling it out.

It took Jared some time until he had struggled out of his socks and the soggy pants that were clinging to his calves. His legs were long and gangly and Jensen smiled benignly when he watched Jared shimmy into the sweatpants. They were too big around the waist and the legs went over Jared’s naked toes, but they would do.

“Thank you,” Jared muttered and hid his blush behind his bangs, dragging his knees up to his chest in an attempt to get comfortable. “Your pants smell really nice. You smell really nice, too.”

Now it was Jensen’s turn to blush, and clearing his throat awkwardly, he popped in a strip of gum. “Well, thank you,” he replied and after stacking some more branches into the fire he settled back again.

The sky was beautiful out here, star-lit and pitch-black like a velvet curtain. The moon stood round and full over waves that lapped restlessly against the quiet shoreline and the steady rise and fall of the tide was like a lullaby.

Minutes ticked by and after a crazy day, Jensen soon felt his eyelids drooping. With a yawn he let himself fall back into the sand, hands folded behind his head.

So far away from his questionable home, Jensen’s problems had seemingly shrunken. And just as the waves would wash away the footprints they had left in the sand on their way here, his panic had dissolved and had left him with a sort of calm he didn’t know he craved until now. His heart was beating in a lazy rhythm and he was warm, content, comfortable in the soft embrace of the sandy shore.

“Jensen?” Jared asked quietly from where he sat next to the fire. His face was illuminated by the flames’ fiery dance and Jensen felt his chest pull tight when he turned to look at him.

“What is it?” He asked blearily, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Thank you,” Jared’s voice sounded a little bit breathily and Jensen could see Jared’s cheeks turning rosy, his hands fiddling idly with the seam of his sweater. “You let me ride the bus and bought me sausage in a bun. I liked that. And the crackers. Thank you for letting me stay with you.”

“It’s quite alright,” Jensen mumbled, feeling heat rising to his cheeks, the tips of his ears turning pink. “My pleasure.”

On the other side of the fire, Jared shifted into a more comfortable position and after fidgeting for a while he settled on his side, chest facing the fire and head resting on his backpack. His bare toes were balled into the legs of Jensen’s sweatpants and Jensen smiled at the sight.

They would be okay out here, next to the fire and guarded by the ocean’s gentle presence. With Jensen’s sweatpants, Jared would keep warm enough and Jensen didn’t mind the stiff breeze. They would be okay: two strangers in the middle of nowhere, stranded, without cash and an uncertain journey ahead.


	3. Chapter 3

A bright, yellow sun rose early in the morning and Jensen woke up groaning, rolling over until his face touched sand. A flock of seagulls high above the beach reminded Jensen where he had spent the night, and after a few dozy moments of bleary-eyed blinking, he sat up, only to discover that he was alone. Jared was gone and his deserted backpack sat on the ground as a silent witness, eerie enough to make Jensen uncomfortable.

Getting up, Jensen stretched as he scanned the surroundings and after a moment he discovered a trail of soft footprints in the sand. They lead away from their makeshift campsite and towards the water where the waves lapped against the lonely shoreline in a steady lull. Intrigued, Jensen decided to follow the trail and soon enough Jared’s silhouette appeared against the horizon as he was standing down by the water with his hands buried in the pockets of Jensen’s sweatpants. Wind was pulling his hair like it wanted to yank him out into the waves. The world tasted like salt this morning, tangy and intense when Jensen carefully approached the unmoving figure.

“‘S a nice view,” he said, and felt incredibly stupid. Of all the things that crossed his mind, this was the most mundane.

But Jared only nodded and slowly he turned to look at Jensen. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t wake you up. I just wanted to see it again.”

“I figured,” Jensen murmured, and taking a deep breath he averted his own gaze out onto the water to take in the surf. Seagulls were floating above, chattering idly, and Jared waved at them, laughing, and making his knobby shoulders brush against Jensen’s arm until Jensen felt the gentle touch tingling in his toes.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” Jared muttered quietly. “All my life people told me what to do and even more often what not to do. And now I’m standing here, free, and there’s this feeling here, right here.” He tapped his chest right above where his heart was beating.  

Jensen couldn’t help but smile. “You probably won’t believe it, but I get you,” he replied with a sigh and watched a wave playfully curl around Jared’s fingers as he bent down to pick up yet another shell. “It puts things in perspective to see the ocean, makes you think how big your problems really are in a larger picture, eh? I mean, in the grand scheme of things nothing really matters, does it?”

Wiping the shell on his sweater, Jared furrowed his brow as he turned to look at Jensen. “Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

Jensen shrugged. “It’s just a saying—”

“I _do_ believe you,” Jared hurried to add, firmly and with a serious look on his face. There was a smudge of dirt on his cheek and without even thinking about it, Jensen reached out to brush it off.

“I know,” he replied quietly before turning to stare at the horizon again until it was time for them to pack their things and leave.

They piled the still warm ashes of their campfire with enough wet sand to suffocate the heat and used their feet to cover their tracks. Once Jensen had shouldered his suitcase and Jared managed to buckle up his backpack they were ready to go, though both reluctant to leave. The sun was sparkling on the churning waters when they turned from the ocean view, the waves solid gray under their spindrift crowns. Jared kept casting glances over his shoulder as he trudged behind Jensen, the contents of his pockets jingling quietly.

They left a trail of footprints in the sand, and if a stranger would have followed them, they would have found it a little down the path: a pair of dirt-crusted, crumpled socks, left down by the water, forgotten in the sand and soon washed away by the tide.

 ♦ 

Jensen lead them back into the sorry excuse for a town and up the main road until they ran into the small pawn shop the clerk in the store had been mentioning the day before. It was a tiny store, barely worth the mention, and the thought to go inside hysterical. The shop window was cluttered with electronics from another century, rumpled suits, cheap imitations of famous sports brands and porcelain dolls with broken glass eyes.

“You should wait outside,” Jensen suggested as he unloaded his suitcase from his shoulders. “It looks tacky inside.”

Jared’s posture stiffened. “But I wanna go where you go, Jensen,” he said quietly, stepping a little closer to Jensen as if to prove his point.

“I know,” Jensen replied, trying to keep the hint of urgency out of his tone. “And you are. I just want this to be over real quick, do you understand?”

Jared didn’t look like he did. “I don’t.”

Jensen sighed quietly and shook his head in disbelief. “Jared please don’t be childish, I’m gonna be right over there, just inside the store.”

“I’m not a child.” Jared disgruntledly huffed out. “I turned twenty-six last month.”

“See? It’s gonna be a dance in the daisies for you to wait outside while I get us a ticket out of here, yeah?”

It took them awhile but eventually Jared agreed to wait outside, and leaning against a fence post next to the pawn store, he rammed his hands into the pockets of the sweatpants he was still wearing to wait. The look on his face was reluctant, a little uncertain, and Jensen promised to be back in no time.

However, Jensen’s initial assessment of the store proved to be correct as he quickly discovered as soon as he walked in. Everything was kind of old-fashioned, out-dated, slightly greasy, including the seemingly centuries-old clerk. He sported a thick Southern accent and an impressively thin, wildly bouncing moustache that turned every potential negotiation into a challenge. He didn’t take Jensen up on his attempts to chit-chat and apparently prefered to move directly to the matter at hand.

“Whatcha have for me?” he asked gruffly as he watched Jensen rummage through his suitcase, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. “I’m not gonna buy trash.”

Scoffing, Jensen had to bite his lips to hold back his laugh. Instead he pulled out what he had to offer and placed everything on the counter.

He had thought about this beforehand: realistically he would need at least one pair of slacks and a blazer for the wedding to retain his reputation as the smooth, well-dressed business man. The shirt he was wearing still looked decent enough and with a little bit of luck no one would notice the mustard stain on his sleeve and the holes along the hem. But seeing he was stripped to the bone, he decided to take up the risk and worry about the wedding when it was about to happen. Quietly, he reached for the designer suits—the last reminders of his once successful life as a business owner—and attempted to pile them on the counter.  

It took him a few minutes to untangle three pair of sleek, expensive-looking if a little rumpled slacks and four well-groomed dress shirts, his wrist watch—which he had considered selling numerous times before but refrained mostly for sentimental reasons until this point—his now emptied leather wallet, a golden key ring his mother once had given him as a lucky charm, and a pair of scratched Ray Ban shades.

The clerk grunted. “Quite the fancy man, aren’t you?” he sneered when Jensen was done,  picking up one of the dress shirts and pointing at the alligator symbol on the tag. He didn’t seem all that impressed with Jensen’s very personal belongings and went through it like it all meant nothing. Like it wasn’t Jensen entire life right there on the dirty counter of a tacky pawn shop.

“Well yes,” Jensen muttered. “So what do you think?”

Digging through the stuff, the clerk shrugged. “Not much to work with: second-hand clothes and a few tokens, that’s nothing to get excited about. More sentimental value than anything else.”

The words struck Jensen like lightning to his core, and grinding his teeth he tried to keep his calm. “Those are really expensive suits, and the wallet is a custom-made Hugo Boss. Talk about sentimental value.”

Unblinking, the clerk fingered the wrist watch like he hadn’t even registered Jensen’s words. “How old is the watch?”

“About two years. It’s an original Villemont Luminor chronometer.”

The clerk nodded, turning the expensive piece in his hands to check for any scratch marks or possible cracks in the glass. “Two hundred,” he said after a moment of silent assessment and Jensen felt his mouth falling open.

“Are you joking? You’re joking, right? I paid five grand for that damned thing, two hundred is _insane_.”

The clerk seemed unimpressed. “Two hundred, it’s all I can do. It’s outdated, two years is a long time.”

Fuming, Jensen almost spat out. “You gotta be kidding me, that’s less than I paid for its damned insurance. What kinda rip off is that?”

The clerk’s face remained stoic even as he went through the other things, silently leaving Jensen to his seething rage. He didn’t seem all that inclined to argue with his impatient customer and after a minute of hammering a few numbers into his old-fashioned pocket calculator, he looked up again.

“Two hundred for the watch, fifty bucks for the fancy shmancy suits and the keyring. Keep the shades, you look like you need ‘em,” he said with a dismissive, mirthless smirk.

Jensen scoffed. “Three hundred for the watch and at least seventy for the clothes.”

The clerk didn’t seem all too inclined to give into what Jensen considered a generous offer, and shook his head. “No way, son.” He sneered and when Jensen tried to bargain again he added, “Look, I don’t care if you were dumb enough to slap five fucking grand on the counter for a damned watch, and I don’t see how your swanky designer suits are any better than a simple, right off the rack Walmart tux. I will never understand what you people are trying to accomplish with such useless frivolty. But I’ll give you a piece of advice for free: I’m the only pawn shop within a sixty mile radius, so either you take my offer or grab your stuff and get outta here. I have a game to watch.”

And just like that, Jensen felt his anger deflate. “And what about this?” he asked quietly and plucked the tarnished silver ring from his hand. “How much do you think you can give me for that?”

It was an heirloom, the only thing Jensen had ever come to value amidst his luxuries. It had been his father’s, and his father’s before him, and was a simple ring with a curious pattern on the metal and a small band of emeralds along the rim. It was probably nothing special, just a token, a memory, but it was worth a try.

The clerk perked up. “How old is it?” he asked with the same raspy voice and his eyebrows shot towards his hairline when he heard Jensen’s explanations.

“My mother used to have a similar piece,” he said and for the first time it didn’t sound like he was ready to rip Jensen a new one. Almost fondly he held the ring to his eyes, and then, blinking the nostalgia away, he looked at Jensen.

“Four hundred cash,” he said lowly and with a frown, as if it physically pained him to even consider such a humongous sum. “For everything. And not a single penny more,”

Jensen—sensing his only chance to get away with a reasonable amount of money—decided to ignore the crippling suspicion of just having been ripped off like a goddamn rookie, and instead he took the clerk’s extended hand and shook it firmly.

“Deal,” he said with dread on his tongue, and surveyed the guy’s lopsided smirk with a sigh. Within the matter of minutes he had lost not only the last valuable pieces of his closet, but also his only family heirloom and what was left of his dignity, sold to a shady pawn shop clerk in the middle of nowhere. But with the alternative looking ever more grim, he zipped up his fairly empty suitcase as he watched the clerk putting away his new acquisitions and gathering the cash from underneath the counter.

Jensen was about to take the offered bills when a thought struck him. “Actually, I don’t need this thing anymore,” he said slowly, nodding towards his suitcase. “You have something smaller and less unwieldy?”

The guy behind the counter seemed reluctant to make any more business with Jensen, but after a few moments of rummaging through his stock he came up with a fairly dusty but intact duffel bag in olive green. It wasn’t much to look at, but enough to hastily stuff in Jensen’s few belongings and traded evenly with the expensive hardcover suitcase.

“Looks like we’re done here,” Jensen said as he slung the bag around his shoulders. Nodding, the clerk slapped the previously gathered dollar bills on the counter, motioning for his unpleasant customer to take them.

The money felt wrong in Jensen’s hands, like a stack of cold, empty paper he had just traded his very personality for. It seemed to weigh a hundred pounds, and with a curt nod Jensen bid the clerk goodbye. His finger felt strangely naked without the ring he had been wearing for so long, and the band of pale skin where the metal had been sitting for almost two decades was the only reminder of the fading memory of a distant father. Jensen didn’t look back, and heavy with guilt and the crushing realization that he was now for the first time in his life complete and utterly broke, he stepped outside, looking for Jared.

He found him a few feet down the road, right on the sidewalk where Jared was hunkered down next to a huge, black dog. His hands were buried in the ruff around the mutt’s neck, his face blissfully tilted into the intent, slobbery kisses the huge dog was happily sharing. A smile was plastered across Jared’s face, and his laugh was so soft, so real, it reminded Jensen that there was happiness to be found outside of wealth and that luxury might not mean owning expensive accessories.

They stayed with the dog until its owner returned from their errands—Jared waving Jensen over, introducing him to the dog with a childlike giddiness and almost bursting with joy when Jensen leaned down to give the pooch a pat on the head—before they said their goodbyes and took off towards the car rental. It was a ten minute walk up the road and turned out to be a greasy garage full of oil-stained concrete and sharp, angular metal rusting in the frontyard. The small woman with the most charming smile and a mop of wavy blonde hair flowing behind her introduced herself as Adrianne, and after another twenty minutes of conversing and negotiating, she lead them to their new car.

It was an older model truck, nothing special, but in good condition. Sure the varnish was a little dingy and the brakes screeched godawfully when Jensen took a short test drive in the yard, but it had four tires and a steering wheel and that was about everything Jensen could ask for.

“So, you guys are on a roadtrip?” Adrianne asked when they sat down in her tiny office behind the workshop. She seemed friendly, and Jared nodded enthusiastically.

“I’m his friend for the wedding,” he replied with a shy smile and ducked his head at the sudden realisation that he had been talking to a stranger.

“That’s exciting,” she said. “Make sure you go see the cattle drives down in San Isidro if you happen to be in the area. It’s quite the sight.”

Her eyes were dark with amusement when they kept darting between her two unlikely customers and crinkles appeared on the bridge of her nose when she offered Jared a lemonade and he took a big sip, unsuspecting of the fizziness and breaking into a small coughing fit.

Jensen was busy signing the contract and after forking over a large sum and the bigger portion of the stacked dollar bills in his pocket, Adrianne handed them the keys and a few papers to keep. In three days the car had to be back in the yard in impeccable shape, so the contract said, and Jensen felt his stomach lurch at the reminder of a life after the wedding. He had only ever thought about their journey in terms of the big event, knowing that a change of perspective would require him to face the consequences, consider his options.

“You guys gotta fill up on gas first,” Adrianne said when Jensen slipped behind the steering wheel. “There’s a station just outside of town, ten minutes down the Western highway. If you fill up there, tell Julie you’re one of my customers and she’ll make you a deal on the gas. And if her brother’s around, tell him he needs to come and pick up his bike or I’ll recycle it with the rest of the scrap metal.”

Nodding, Jensen pulled the door shut before rolling down the window. “Thanks for everything, Adrianne. See you in three days?”

“Three days,” the woman confirmed and shooting Jared a wink she then stepped back to let the truck roll off the yard, waving them goodbye until they pulled around the corner at the end of the street.

The tires ran smoothly along the asphalt and with both windows down, the stale heat inside the cabin soon turned into blissful swirl of head winds that tasted like dust and gas. Next to the road, fields of wheat seemed to stretch endlessly to the horizon, only rarely interrupted by bands of dried grass and scarcely sowed trees with their sepia-colored crowns gently swaying in the breeze. The steering wheel was sticky under Jensen’s hands—uncomfortably so—but he couldn’t help but smile as he watched Jared press buttons and turn the knobs on the radio until he found a suitable station. It was some sort of cheap, excited teenage pop and Jensen would’ve probably protested if it hadn’t been for Jared’s radiant smile and the little wiggle dance he started once the speakers sprang to life. The wind was ruffling Jared’s hair and he smelled like salt, his dimples popping whenever he glanced over to Jensen to shoot him a smirk when he wasn’t fidgeting in his seat.

They had stopped for gas and a few snacks at Julie’s gas station—Julie being a friendly redhead with a questionable sense of humor, all soft face and crass language—and Jared was currently nibbling away at a granola bar. Despite the heat, he had held on to his knitted sweater and his bare toes were wiggling along in a terrible off-beat as he sat cross-legged in his seat.

“So, no socks, huh?” Jensen asked over the noisy song. It wasn’t the first time he observed the missing socks, but only now he felt like picking up the conversation.

Jared however kept busy with his granola bar and only blushed slightly beneath his greasy bangs, shrugging. “I don’t need them anymore,” he explained eventually. “I’m not a prisoner anymore and my feet want to be free, too.”

“Prison?” Jensen asked, shooting him a quizzical look. “Do you mean the hospital?”

Jared gave a noncommittal grunt. “That, too,” he said cryptically after he swallowed the last bite of his granola bar and turned up the music again, declaring the conversation finished.

Jensen cocked a brow, but didn’t interrogate any further. There was no need to press the matter and of all the things he wanted to do to Jared, making him uncomfortable was definitely not on the list. So instead of prying, he reached for a bottle of water and got comfortable in the driver’s seat, eyes ahead and hand casually brushing Jared’s thigh whenever he had to shift gears.

The road went on and on in front of them, the radio kept on blaring obnoxious teen-pop, and soon any sense of time was out the window. It felt like they were riding an endless gray band on their steel horse, only the yellow brick road was flanking them instead of ahead. The horizon blurred into a glistening streak of hazy yellows, telephone posts flew by like stern, straight reminders of humanity in an otherwise undisturbed vastness. They had left the sea behind to dive head first into a new, golden ocean of wheat fields with waves of grain and curling winds surging through the stalks like a ferocious breath of life.

 ♦ 

The sun was half ready to dip into the horizon when they pulled into a small town just offside the bumpy road. It was barely more than an assembly of a few houses, one of them being a motel. Set somewhat at the fringe of the town, it was remotely secluded as if to keep strangers away from the locals. The whitewash on the front porch was faded enough to be considered dingy and the omnipresent dust of the prairie had turned the windows dull. But it was good enough for the night and Jensen figured they could have it worse. He briefly considered sleeping in the car, couldn’t find the heart to ask Jared after having spent their previous night resting on the ground already though and with a shrug he parked in front of the motel, counting his leftover cash in his head already.

Against all expectations, the insides of the building turned out to be quite nice. The girl behind the counter was cheery, her hair cropped short and her cheeks flushed from the heat when she handed Jensen the bill.

“Beer’s in the minibar beneath the sink, towels cost extra.” she explained in her thick, Southern accent. “The tv in your room is broken but there is a carnival in town you might wanna check out.”

Jared perked up immediately. “A carnival?”

The girl nodded, smiling brightly. “We’re having a little celebration of sorts: five years without any tornado accidents and still going strong. It’s right down the street, you can’t miss it. Have a look, eat a corn dog, get yourselves a couple beers. Whatever tickles your funny-bone.”

“Uh, thank you,” Jensen said after their host had finished and with Jared fidgeting behind him, Jensen grabbed their keys. “See you around.”

They barely made it into their room before Jensen felt a soft tug on his shirt.

“Hey, Jensen?” Jared whispered, hands clasping together as soon as Jensen turned around. “Can we… maybe… go? It’s still light out and maybe ‘cause we don’t have a tv and I’m not much for entertainment. I mean we don’t have to—”

“You want to go check out the carnival?” Jensen asked incredulously, dropping his newly acquired duffle bag on the only bed available.

Shuffling from one foot to the other, Jared nodded vaguely. “We don’t have to, I just thought maybe… uh, I—we really don’t have to.”

Jensen hadn’t expected Jared to want to go out, but after a quick glance through the motel room he had a feeling there wasn’t much else to do. And with their granola and chocolate bar supplies having been exhausted during their hour long drive, they probably had a better chance to go to bed with their bellies full if they found something other than the pretzel sticks the minibar offered.

“Sure, we can go,” he said after a few seconds of contemplating. “If you want to.”

“We don’t have to,” Jared hurried to repeat. “We don’t have to. I just got excited, having never been. To a carnival I mean. But I understand, we don’t have to. ‘S probably not a good idea anyway and you’re tired. We don’t have to, really. We don’t have to go, I don’t even want to go anymore, Jensen—”

Cocking his head, Jensen, placed a hand on Jared’s chest right where it moved rapidly with his words. “I said it’s fine, Jared. We can go and check it out,” he said quietly, willing some of his own calm composure to rub off on the trembling young man in front of him.

Jared blinked slowly, cheeks flushed with—was it shame? “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jensen said in the same soft tone before adding. “I would love to. Let’s get settled and clean ourselves up a little before we leave though; I think I reek.”

Jared’s eyes were brimming with restrained excitement when he leaned in on an inhale. “You don’t,” he established as he sniffed along Jensen’s collar like an overgrown puppy. He was close enough for Jensen to realize that Jared’s entire body was shaking in anticipation.

There wasn’t much to do in order to get settled into the rather empty room and after having sprinkled his face and wrists with some cold water and changing from the sweat-soaked button-down into a simple, plain white tee, Jensen felt somewhat refreshed and ready to go. Stepping out of the small bathroom, he spotted Jared hovering by the front door, bouncing on his heels, beautiful as ever.

It took some convincing before Jared agreed to leave his backpack on the bed, and after grabbing the keys, they paired up in front of the door.

“You ready to go?” Jensen asked, smiling softly.

“Yes,” Jared blurted out, a little too loud and with his voice booming against the blank motel room walls. “I mean, if you still wanna—”

Rolling his eyes a little at Jared’s hesitation, Jensen turned to look at him. And then, on a whim, he extended a hand like he had done last time when had been asking his highschool sweetheart to prom.

“Jared, would you do me the honor of going to the carnival with me?”

Within a beat—and to Jensen’s infinite surprise—Jared slipped a sticky palm into Jensen’s to link their fingers together in an intimate fashion.

“Yes,” he breathed, smiling brightly. His dimples were deep grooves in his cheeks, the little mole next to his slightly upturned nose crinkling with the motion.

“Then we better get going,” Jensen heard himself say, voice a little too raspy. There was nothing about Jared that wasn’t fascinating. How could anyone say no to such a sweet, gentle human?

The carnival turned out to be no more than a few squalid tents scattered on a dusty square on the other side of the town. The cheap plastic merry-go-round was almost a highlight, considering the other attractions, and Jensen wrinkled his nose at the sickening smell of greasy food that seemed to be omnipresent. A few locals were roaming the place, some leaning against the shooting range, others watching a tedious brass band that was currently acting out on stage. Kids sat on hay bales, eating ice cream or cotton candy, and a few couples were swaying on the small dance floor underneath the canopy of a white tent right by the stage.

Gaping, Jared didn’t know where to look first and for the longest time he kept glancing around. He seemed rooted the spot next to Jensen as he tried to take everything in and if he was inching a little closer at the intimidating amount of new impressions, Jensen didn’t comment on it. He didn’t wander off this time like he been doing at the beach, but after a few minutes of watching the bustling surroundings, he nudged Jensen forward, trailing along as Jensen moved through the sparse crowd.

They stopped at the snack stand to get a corn dog each, and eating away, they followed the lead of the tents further down. The music was deafening, the beat completely off, but somehow Jared didn’t seem to care. Instead he pointed at the balloons, the stuffed animals that were hanging from the roof of the biggest tent. He laughed about the silly clown with the terrible hair, and watched a rattling Wheel of Fortune go round and round and round until he got tired of it. He smiled at the children sitting on the hay bales that lined the way, waving excitedly when they did, and stood in awe by the ponies the local farmer had dragged out to give the kids a ride. With a serene look on his face, Jared brushed their manes and down their necks and surprisingly the stubborn little horses let him.

And it was all Jensen could do not to swoon at the the shy, bashful smiles Jared tried to hide behind a curtain of greasy hair that curled behind his ears. He was beautiful in the soft glow of the party lights, his cheeks rosy from the genuine excitement, his lips coral red and gasping when they passed a booth with dart games and tin can alley. Sweat was gathering on his brows, the tender column of his throat visible even from underneath the turtleneck, and Jensen swore under his breath that never before had he seen something so beautiful, fragile, wholesome.  

It wasn’t until they made it all the way to the other end of the field that something piqued Jensen’s interest. It had been a while, but once he spotted the carefully separated field outside from the rest of the questionable attractions, he was immediately hooked.

“Hey Jared, you up for something dirty?” he asked as his eyes carefully skimmed the enclosed area. They had put up a few hay bales and obstacles made out of plain wood. Cardboard walls leaned against the abstract constructions to provide cover and the floor was cushioned with straw. It looked pretty solid considering the circumstances and Jensen felt excitement bubbling in his chest.

Jared on the other hand seemed to be at a loss, and cocking his head he turned to look at Jensen. “What do you mean?”

“I mean _real_ filthy; a big, honest mess. It’s gonna be fun though, that much I can promise,” Jensen replied, licking his lips. “So you up for it?”

Jared didn’t seem to understand what Jensen was getting at, but apparently had enough faith in Jensen to nod anyway. “Yeah,” he breathed and Jensen tried to shake off the devastating pinch in his chest at the open display of trust as he approached the guy by the field, pulling out his wallet.

He paid for two tickets, grabbed the coveralls and bags full of wobbly balloons, and was through the small make-shift gate before the suffocating feeling had a chance to catch up to him.

“So all I have to do is try to hit you with one of these?” Jared asked incredulously, weighing one of the paint-filled balloons in his palm. He look adorable in his white coveralls, with the hood sitting slightly off on his greasy hair.

“That’s all,” Jensen confirmed. He was struggling to fasten the balloon bag around his shoulders, the sling just that much too tight to be comfortable. “And I’m gonna do the same while you try and run from me.”

Jared scrunched up his nose. “Why would I run from you?”

“Easy. So I can’t do this,” Jensen deadpanned and pulling one of the balloons out of his bag, he smushed it against the top of Jared’s head with enough pressure to make the thin, plastic pop. With a slick sound the contents burst out and within seconds Jared’s hair was drenched in purple paint. Strangely, it suited him.

“What was that for?” Jared protested, but Jensen was already on his way to move behind one of the cardboard walls.

Cackling, he hunkered down. “Wanna bet you won’t get a single speck of paint on me, Jay?” he hollered, risking a glance around the edge of his cover.

Jared—who by now had caught up on what the game was all about—showed him his teeth in a snarl before heading towards Jensen’s cover, paint-filled balloon at the ready.

Jensen didn’t win his bet, but he didn’t try all that hard to begin with. Instead he kept running in his tight-fit jeans until the skin between his thighs felt raw and his chest was aching with how badly he was out of breath. Leaping out of the way at the last second, dodging and seeking cover behind the cardboard walls became crucial with his opponent being Jared, who—as Jensen quickly discovered—was more agile, more cunning and more shrewd than Jensen would have ever guessed.

After Jensen had landed his first hit, they spent about half an hour running around on the obstacle field, trying to drench each other in the sticky paint. Jared scored his first hit when Jensen didn’t reach the cover quick enough, and Jared threw a triumphant fist in the air. The color on Jensen’s chest was spring green and both men laughed before they took off into opposing directions. Jensen was the next to land a hit on Jared’s left thigh, only to take one directly against his cheek seconds after. With a wet splat the color came free and Jensen duly noted the tang of red on his lips, down his face.

They stopped counting after that, or at least Jensen did. Jared was all over the place and soon the world turned into a blur of colors, sweat and the sound of Jensen’s panting whenever he cowered down to find cover. His heart was thudding so loudly with the sound of Jared’s laugh in his ears, his throat tight whenever he caught a glimpse of the swishing, leaping contours Jared seemed to fade into when he was moving across the field. It was like something had unclenched in the sweet, shy man Jensen had saved from the noose not three days ago, that was now unfolding on a paintball field outside a carnival in Bumfuck, Texas.

By the time they reached the bottom of their balloon bags, both of them were gasping for air. Paint in all shades of the rainbow was running down their overalls, straw sticking to the slick stains and clumping on their lashes. Jared’s naked feet were caked in dust and paint when he leaned forward to land one last hit on Jensen’s chest, smiling sweetly.

“I won,” he panted and stepped closer until Jensen could see the myriad of different colors swirling in his hazel eyes. “You’re covered in paint. You didn’t win your bet, I did.”

Jensen threw his head back to laugh and brushing a speck of orange from Jared’s collarbone he nodded. “So what’s your reward gonna be, buddy? You choose.”  

Jared’s eyes—if possible—sparked a little brighter when he blurted out, “Cotton candy,” before hiding a blush behind his greasy, paint-drenched bangs. “If I can have some.”

Jensen felt a surge of warmth at such an innocent request and without further ado he led Jared off the paintball field and towards the candy booth, buying the biggest, fluffiest mountain of pink cotton candy the clerk had to offer. The look on Jared’s face when he took the first bite was nothing short of blissful, and because Jensen declined the generous offer to share the treat, Jared found himself a nice spot to continue his feast.

In bold contrast to Jensen—who used to show no restraint when getting presented with treats during his blissfully ignorant childhood—Jared didn’t just mindlessly wolf down what was left of the cotton candy after the first few bites, but instead settled down offside the carnival to carefully pluck the pink sugar-clouds from the stick, piece by piece, savoring every bite and humming contently. He cherished it to the last sticky nip and only when every trace of pink fluff had disappeared did he stand again, looking around.

The sky had grown dark over their excessive workout on the paintball field and only few people stuck around to listen to the band, even fewer of them dancing.

“They look happy,” Jared commented quietly as he was watching the swaying couples on the dancefloor. His eyes were hooded, coral lips shiny with sugar.

Jensen felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah, they do. And that’s even considering the awful music, huh?”

“I like the music,” Jared replied, nodding his head to the beat.

It was an odd thing, talking to Jared. For Jensen at least, who—as a leader of a more or less successful business—had been well-composed and tight-lipped all his life. With Jared, talking was more of a pleasure, instead of an act of convenience and mere communication. Nothing seemed off-limits, words flowed easily, and Jensen and drew confidence from the quiet comfort between them. It made him bold.

So when he said “Have you ever danced with someone?” and Jared shook his head in reply, asking “Do you want to?” was the only logical next step.

Turning to look at Jensen, Jared pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “You would dance with me?” he asked, quietly enough for Jensen having to lean in.

“Sure,” Jensen replied with a shrug. “I don’t see why not. The music’s terrible and it’s probably horribly inappropriate, but you know what? So is having corn dogs for dinner and sleeping on the beach. And two grown men throwing balloons full of paint at each other. So what do you say, buddy? We’re having a little dance-off?”

Uncertainty came off Jared in waves and with a deep blush creeping up his cheeks he drew his shoulders up high, floppy hair falling into his face.

“I don’t like the people,” he whispered as he faced away from the small crowd. “I don’t like how they stare, Jensen. I—”

“It’s alright,” Jensen hurried to cut in when Jared’s voice cracked a little. “I understand, we can do it another time, huh? Now, how about we get back to the motel and see if we can get this paint off our skin, huh? Or else I think this stuff is going to start to get into my system pretty soon.”

Jared—still flustered and with his face hidden beneath color-soaked bangs—nodded quietly and after a last, thorough look at the carnival he trailed behind Jensen as they made their way to their humble stay for the night.

 ♦ 

Even after showering for almost half an hour, specks of dried paint were still scattered across Jared’s hair when he exited the bathroom. He had lost the knitted sweater after Jensen had coaxed it off him, declaring there was no way he could wear the paint-smeared thing for the night. Now one of Jensen’s shirts hung off Jared’s skinny frame like a summer dress and Jensen thought of how tall and lean Jared had been up on this chair in the hospital’s bathroom. And comparatively how small he seemed now as he climbed under the blankets on the other side of the king-sized bed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take the floor?” Jensen asked again when Jared was settled, only his nose sticking out from under the sheets.

“Yes,” he said quietly and his lips curled into a small, private smile.

Jensen took some time to admire the splash of chestnut-hair on the pillow, the gentle curve of Jared’s nose, the arch of his brow under the damp fringe of his bangs. He was still the most beautiful, frail thing Jensen had ever met. His lips had been coral red and shiny after the cotton candy and Jensen thought about it, his heart beating like a trapped sparrow again. He thought about how different Jared looked without the hospital clothes, too, and how long it might take to fall in love with a smile.  After a moment and an age and with a quiet groan, he eventually decided he had been doing quite enough staring, and rolling over onto his back he clicked the bedside lamp shut.

They lay in silence for some time. The moon was almost full, casting an eerie, pale light into the room and sharpening Jared’s features against the sheets. His eyes were bottomless pools in the darkness—glossy like liquid onyx—the contours of his body like the softly waving ocean.

“Jared?” Jensen asked before he could stop himself.

“Yes?”

“Jared, why were you in that hospital?”

A beat of silence ensued and it gave Jensen enough time to draw a deep breath.

“Because I killed my mother,” Jared whispered and Jensen felt his stomach twist, lungs pulling tight, all wind suddenly knocked out of him. Adrenaline spiked like in those moments when you miss a step in a dream, cold sweat beading in the dip of Jensen’s throat and he felt as if someone had kicked him in the teeth until his skull rattled.

Then Jared picked up the conversation again.

“I was in my room and I heard her fall over. She called my name, asked me to help her. Said that she had a pain in her chest. But I… I didn’t go down to the living room.” Jared whispered, voice so quiet and thick with tears. “I didn’t want to help her anymore.”

Jared didn’t cry, but his words sounded wet when he continued. “I just sat in my room and waited. Waited for so long. And when I went downstairs, she was dead. And I was alone.”

It felt like Jared’s heart must have been breaking next to Jensen in this bed they shared, with his eyes wide like saucers in the dark and his hands cramping in the blanket. “I wrote a note for the mailman,” he said, staring blankly at the ceiling. “‘What should I do?’ I wrote, and passed it under the door. The next day the police came and they took me and put me in the hospital.”

“Why didn’t you just call someone? The ambulance?” Jensen rasped and he felt strangely light-headed, like this wasn’t really happening to him.

“I wasn’t allowed to use the telephone.” Jared said simply, as if it would explain everything.

“Then what about your dad?” Jensen heard himself say. “Why wasn’t he around to help?”

Jared’s lips might have been quivering in distress but through the darkness Jensen couldn’t be sure. “He went away when I was still a baby. He left us,” he said bitterly, taking a shuddering breath. “That’s why I was never allowed outside. Mother didn’t want me to go, too. So she locked every door, until I was all alone.”

And suddenly it hit Jensen. Why Jared was so full of wonder and genuine excitement, why he had seemingly missed out on everything: bus rides, the beach, carnivals, corn dogs and cotton candy. Why he shied away from big crowds, why the sun and the open sky seemed like a miracle to him and why the sea had been an unending source of joy and entertainment to him.

“You were never allowed outside?” Jensen asked, choking around the lump in his throat. “Not even for school or to see your friends?”

Jared shook his head. “I never had any,” he whispered. “I only ever knew my mother. And when she died, I was all alone. Until you came.”

“You’ve been a prisoner all your life,” Jensen muttered and finally he understood why Jared had tied that noose, why he wanted to end himself on that hot, summer afternoon not three days ago.

Jared stilled on his side of the bed until only the slow dip and rise of his chest moved the blanket. He was still watching the ceiling, and Jensen thought he had never seen such proud, quiet sorrow. His chest was aching with sympathy, his eyes stinging with the tears Jared held back with gentle dignity. It was a thing of serene beauty to see Jared lying there, perfectly still, with his throat softly moving, and at the same time the most heartbreaking image Jensen could imagine.

It hadn’t even been his intention in the first place, but when he slowly reached out—slowly as not to spook Jared—he was deeply grateful that Jared didn’t shy away from his hand and instead carefully leaned into the touch.

Gently Jensen brushed his fingers through Jared’s still wet hair, feeling the texture and the silky softness, almost getting lost in the simple gesture and desperately willing his hands to translate the words he didn’t manage to choke out.

“Jared,” Jensen whispered, thinking about Jared’s mouth and how it had probably never tasted a popsicle in the summer sun. “I’m so sorry, Jared.”

Jared shifted, and using Jensen’s arm like a lifeline he inched closer, all the way through the impenetrable thickness of the bedspread folds and across the insuperable plains of the mattress between them until he could gently, hesitantly rest his head on Jensen’s chest.

It was almost odd, how Jensen wasn’t the slightest bit alarmed about Jared’s confession, and instead his chest was brimming with empathy and heart-felt sorrow. Jared wasn’t a murderer. And even if he knew he couldn’t change the past—couldn’t make up for Jared’s lost childhood—that night Jensen wished for a miracle, vowing that one day he would lay the world he had been conditioned to miss at Jared’s feet.

With Jensen’s fingers still carefully combing through Jared’s damp hair and both of them watching the moon, Jared’s voice was barely more than a whisper when he said: “I can hear your heart beating.”

Huffing out a little laugh, Jensen brushed a thumb across Jared’s temple, hearing him laugh, too.

“The last two days were the best days of my life,” Jared said after another beat. “And I know that because I’m not hurting anymore. Here.” He raised his hand to touch his chest and Jensen didn’t know what to say so he just kept on stroking Jared’s hair until his eyelids started drooping and his breathing turned even.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night for Jensen. He was restless, his head bursting with thoughts and his chest tight with worry. Hours were spent tossing and turning, and not even the somber line of Jared’s still body could give Jensen peace, not the slow dip of his gently moving chest. The world felt scary in the middle of the night, when blue shadows hung low between the sparsely spread furniture and Jensen’s skull was rattling with questions. The fear of what would come after the wedding nestled at the base of his spine, and there under the sheets, with Jared tucked against his side and Jensen’s heart racing away like a frightened rabbit, there was no pretending, no mask of overflowing confidence to hide behind with a shit-eating grin, no _Bite me!_ -attitude and no running from the spectacular, crippling insecurities he swore would never see the light of day. Instead he chewed the insides of his cheeks raw until his eyes were stinging with tears and he carefully resumed petting Jared’s hair, seeking comfort in the mop of damp chestnut locks.

The sky was already turning pink with the dawn again when Jensen finally fell into a fitful sleep, leaving him with a headache come morning and his arm and shoulder feeling like pins and needles from the weight of Jared’s head.

 


	4. Chapter 4

They checked out of the motel in the first light of a hot, humid day. The world looked like it would if it were viewed through a marble on that morning, the sky as blue as a lagoon and the horizon blurry from the ozone in the stifled air. Heat was blazing in a high whir and Jensen was relieved when they neared their destination after a comparatively short ride in the sauna-hot cabin of the truck. Only now Jensen had to face the prospect of spending not only the afternoon, but also most of the midday with his assembled family, a perspective that didn’t exactly promise for Jensen’s spirits to lift.

“Your brows are knitted together so tightly, Jensen, doesn’t that hurt?” Jared said into the silence, successfully snapping Jensen out of his daze. He was still wearing Jensen’s shirt, and looked spectacularly small in it.

Jensen, huffing out a humorless laugh, slowed down the car. “We still have a little bit of time, Jared. Do you wanna see a movie?”

Jared’s entire face lit up. “I would like that very much, Jensen,” he said with a giddy hiccup in his voice. He wiggled his naked toes against the seat..

Glad at the sudden eruption of excitement that promised distraction, Jensen signalled and pulled into a small, bumpy side road and away from the highway that would eventually, inevitably lead to his family home and the party location. Having spent his entire childhood in the area, he knew the territory quite well, and after a few minutes they entered the small town of Ratamosa. It wasn’t much to look at, just another assembly of cookie-cutter houses and terribly groomed front yards with shriveled flower beds and dry, yellow lawns. Only a few people were wandering the sidewalks, and given the heat, that was not all that much of a surprise. The parking lot of the small, old-fashioned movie theater was deserted and the front door looked barred. But there was a sign plastered across the withered billboard above it, announcing that due to the insufferable heat the spectacle had been temporarily moved to an outdoors area and that people are advised to bring their own snacks, and cool refreshment would be provided.

“It’s a drive-in cinema,” Jensen stated incredulously when he purchased two tickets from the clerk that was sat in a small booth by the large, open field just outside the city limits.

“No shit, Sherlock,” the blasé teenager scoffed in return, handing him their tickets and two cans of coke. He didn’t seem all that pleased with his most likely holiday job and his forehead was sweaty from sitting crammed behind the make-shift counter all day.

The movie they showed on the large screen that was clamped and stretched between two large trees was somewhat vintage and—considering the broad light of day and the mainly teenage audience—family friendly. The title screen was already rolling when Jensen pulled into a shady, secluded spot by the lynchet from where they had a amendable view on the screen. Jensen kept the air conditioning running, but stopped the engine and settled into the seat with a sigh as he fumbled for the right radio station so they could listen to what was going on in front of them.

Jared had been fidgeting through the entire drive and was now clutching their tickets tightly to his chest, bottom lip pulled between his teeth. His foxy, hazel eyes were glued to the screen and round in amazement. He seemed quite impressed with the silly idea of watching a movie from inside a car, and Jensen found solace and relief in the soft lines of his body, the perfectly round shape of his lips once they dropped open in awe and the little gasps the fell out of mouth as the movie unfolded. They had purchased a box of cherries from the small grocery store by the community center, and a few cinnamon bread rolls to quench the churning growl in both their stomachs after having left the motel without breakfast. Jared—doe-eyed and wondrous as ever—had stared at the popsicle display long enough to make Jensen pick up one of those, too and the frozen treat was now threatening to melt away on the console.

“You should eat that one before it turns to sugar water,” Jensen said and grabbed the popsicle to shove it into Jared’s hands. “It’s blueberry; I hope you like it.”

Unwrapping the treat with a delicate touch, Jared was momentarily distracted from the movie and with an almost-frown he carefully licked up a stripe on the popsicle. His tongue was pink, in a glaring contrast to the artificial-looking blue of the popsicle, and Jensen felt his throat go tight. With a gulp he took a sip of his coke, while he waited.

“How is it?” he asked after Jared had taken a few tentative licks. “Is it living up to your expectations?”

Wrapping his entire mouth around the treat to give it a experimental suck, Jared giggled when he turned to look at Jensen.  “It’s so sweet,” he explained. “And cold, it’s making my tongue all fuzzy and numb.”

Jensen laughed. “That’s kind of the whole idea,” he said and popped a cherry into his mouth before settling into his seat again.

It was the most curious thing to rehash all those long forgotten memories with Jared, as if Jensen could experience all those small, unimportant details of his life again through the sweet, skinny person next to him: his first day at the beach on his sixth birthday, the road trip down to San Antonio when he was eight, his first strawberry popsicle in the spring every year when it was finally warm enough to enjoy the kiss of frost in the shadow by the lake. It made Jensen feel less like a drowning man, and with a smile he turned his attention back to the movie with only an occasional glance in Jared’s direction to catch him staring or smiling at the screen, lips sticky from the popsicle and hands twisted into hem of Jensen’s shirt.

Two hours later, the sun was still beating down on the soil and even with the air conditioning rattling away and their truck nestling in the shade of a centuries old oak, Jensen felt like he was suffocating inside the cabin. The thin fabric of his shirt was sticking to the small of his back, and with a grunt he kicked his door open. The movie was finished, the credits just about to roll, and Jared and Jensen slipped outside in a cluster of stiffened limbs and into the insufferably humid air.

“Did you like the movie?” Jensen asked and Jared nodded enthusiastically. Encouraged and with a hiccup, he settled down next to Jensen on the hood, and for the next ten minutes they rehashed their favorite parts of the movie, Jared laughing again and again over the easy jokes, the funny antics of the actors. His whole body was bending and shaking with laughter and Jensen was infatuated with the dimples that popped on Jared’s flushed cheeks, the bright swirl of colors inside his eyes in the golden light of the hot, Texas afternoon.

One by one the other cars pulled out of the field until their rented truck was the only vehicle, Jared and Jensen the only people left. Silence fell once their laughter subsided and it wasn’t uncomfortable, or unsettling, but companionable. At least until Jared spoke up.

“You looked sad,” he said gently. “During the movie. Even when you laughed.”

Jensen felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, and with a brittle, mirthless scoff he leaned back to prop himself on his elbows. “What gave it away?”

“You’re distant, like you secretly wish to be somewhere else. Earlier, your hands were clasped around the steering wheel so tightly it turned your knuckles white. I’m not smart, but I know what sadness looks like.”

Jensen shrunk away under Jared’s scrutinizing gaze. “I’m sorry,” he muttered and suddenly the panic from the motel was back, Jensen on the brink of being swept away by the strangling guilt of not being good enough.

“Don’t be,” Jared replied warmly and there was a brief pause before Jensen found the courage that seemed to be lodged somewhere behind his lungs, his voice thick and cracking when he asked.

“How come you never had a popsicle before, Jared?”

Shrugging, Jared licked his lips as if he tried to remember the sweet, prickly taste of the frozen treat. “Mother never approved of it. I saw them in the advertisements on the television and asked her if i could have one, but she never brought one back when she came home from doing groceries.”

“She called it ‘living frugally’. We never had a lot of money. I wasn’t supposed to know but sometimes she would stay up late to count pennies on the kitchen table,” Jared said and his voice turned bitter when he added. “We never had enough money for the things I wanted.”

Jensen huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Jared,” he said with a pang of guilt prodding at his heart. “It’s not fair that a snot-nosed little shit like me was allowed everything, when you had so little. And what did I do with it? I threw it away, like the fool I am, and now I’m sitting here, empty-handed, after having been given every opportunity there was. But I blew it. I had one fucking job, and I fucked it up in every way possible.”

Jared sat perfectly still next to Jensen, with one leg pulled to his chest and his chin propped up on his knee. The light of the sun filtered through the canopy, throwing reflections of green and gold on his chestnut hair. His naked feet were dirty, caked with dust, and Jensen found a quiet kind of solace in something so real and innocent.

“I was an idiot, a careless, arrogant piece of shit who gambled away his future. My step-father basically handed the company to me and all I did was run it to the ground. And now I’m on my way to watch my brother marry my ex-girlfriend and I got nothing. No present, no excuse to cover my sorry ass and no idea how to get out of this mess.”

“You’re not a piece of shit,” Jared said very quietly. There was a tight pull around his mouth, and the slight upturn of his nose scrunched when he furrowed his brows.

Jensen was pretty sure he knew how to breathe, but the ability seemed temporarily absent. With a hitch in his voice he said, “And how would you know, huh? Christ, I haven’t even told my family. I’m strapped and they don’t know it, have no clue that my business went bankrupt and I’m balls deep in debt. It didn’t make the news; seems like I wasn’t such a big fish after all.”

Jensen laughed bitterly. “They still think I’m that loaded dude, well off and having the time of my life. Instead I’m living in a shithole, working a 9-to-5 job to make sure I don’t have to scrape the putty off the window sill tomorrow to have at least something to chew on. I wanted to tell them, but I was too much of a goddamn coward and ashamed to admit my faults. My whole life is this big, fat fucking lie. I even had to sell my dad’s ring, probably making me the worst possible son to a dead father.”

Jared’s eyes fell to the small band of untanned skin on Jensen’s hand and for a few beats the world fell silent. It seemed like all the air and fight had drained out of Jensen as he was now slumped over, breathing shallowly into the space under his shirt collar. Distress was making his lips quiver and he almost reached out to keep Jared from sliding off the hood, part of him wanting to pretend they were still tucked under the thin motel sheets.

Jensen watched Jared stalk over to the passenger’s seat, where he rummaged around for quite some time before he returned, the brief intermission allowing Jensen to recover from the sudden outburst and to shoo away the unpleasant ring of truth and shame.

A timid smile was playing around Jared lips when he stopped in front of the hood. “Give me your hand?” he asked shyly and without thinking, Jensen complied. This time he did reach out and was surprised to feel Jared’s gentle grip.

“It’s not your father’s,” Jared said softly and opened his other hand to reveal a tiny something in the center of his clammy palm. “But it will remind you that I’m your friend.”

And separating Jensen’s ring finger from the rest, Jared proceeded to shove a small circle of cherry stems—hastily tied together and woven into a messy band—onto Jensen’s finger as if he was proposing.

“Oh,” Jensen said, and felt a blush suffusing his cheeks. Silence stretched like a rubberband and his fingers caught Jared’s to hold them firmly in place against his own.

“Thank you, Jay,” he whispered. Jared’s sweet smile went through Jensen’s chest like a hot thrill, and for a brief second he wanted to kiss the living daylights out of him. Just so. But the moment passed and instead they linked their fingers together until their palms rested close and they held the tender grip when Jared hopped on the hood again to sit next to Jensen.

“Thank you,” Jensen repeated breathily and Jared nodded solemnly as he watched Jensen’s thumb drawing small circles across the back of his hand.

Jared’s willingness to like him no matter what was devastating. And Jensen had no idea what to do with it.

They sat in silence until the heat became too much and they had to retreat into the car to crank up the air conditioning to the maximum before Jensen started the truck's engine. It was well after midday by the time they rolled off the field and heavy, rain-laden clouds were gathering in the West. Jensen was well aware that they wouldn’t make it in time for the ceremony, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. It was just another wedding, he tried to tell himself, and turned up the music to drown out his thoughts.

 ♦ 

“We’re almost there,” Jensen announced when he pulled into the long, long driveway that eventually lead up to his family’s mansion. The air crackled with the upcoming thunderstorm and the humidity was maddening, drenching both Jared and Jensen in sweat.

“Are you nervous?” Jared asked and sat up properly, straightening the wrinkles out of the too -big shirt that hung ever so loose from his shoulders. He would have to put on his sweater soon, so his turtleneck could hide the angry row of bruises that bloomed on his neck from the curious gazes of the wedding guests.

Jensen nodded. “I am. Are you?”

“No,” Jared replied easily. “I promised to be your friend so you don’t have to be alone and that’s what I’m doing. I am hungry, though.”

The admission made Jensen laugh, and with a much lighter heart he steered the car through the gravel and towards the house.

“Well there will be food,” he promised as he turned the radio down and pulled into a free parking spot once they arrived at their destination. The humongous, chunky truck looked ridiculous between all the shiny polished cars. Its dented hood was a loud, irritating contrast to the smooth planes of the silver limousine to its right, and Jensen admittedly quite liked the sight. This place needed a few good disturbances, he thought.

They walked up to the house side by side, and Jensen was about to ring the bell like any other visitor—and like he hadn’t spent his entire life within those strong, stone walls—when the door was ripped open from the inside and his stepfather’s face appeared in the hallway.

“You’re late.” the tall, broad man greeted stiffly. “You’ve missed your brother’s wedding ceremony.”

Jensen recoiled from the sudden presence of the man he had never quite managed to appreciate over the years, and sucked in a breath. “It’s a pleasure to see you too, Simon.”

The air between them turned bitter cold and Jensen felt his eye twitch, his palms turning clammy in the heat.

“Did you bring a present at least?” Simon asked cooly. “I sent a list with suggestions to your assistant months ago but she never bothered to reply. Did you finally fire her or is that lazy, incompetent thing still taking up space in your office?”

Grinding his teeth, Jensen bit back a sharp reply and instead forced a smile to his lips. “You’re always so charming, Simon. How do you keep that up, I wonder?”

His stepfather’s jaw flexed and Jensen’s mother chose exactly that moment to walk by the front door, just in time to catch her son and husband in their furious attempt to stare each other down.

“Jensen,” she called out in unabashed blitheness and pushed past Simon to throw her arms around her youngest son, pulling him into the kind of hug only a mother can give. “Jensen, darling, I was worried you might not make it. I tried to call you several times, but you never picked up. We expected you to arrive hours ago.”

“‘M sorry,” Jensen mumbled into the sleek fabric of her expensive designer dress and ducked his head with a blush, suddenly feeling ashamed for all the lies and unanswered calls.

“Well, you’re here now,” Donna said cheerfully and after melting into another bone-crushing hug she stepped away to observe the poor condition of her son’s clothing—and the shy young man that was standing by his side, head ducked behind a curtain of bangs. Her gaze was soft when she walked them past her still seething husband and into the quiet hallway.

“You brought a friend, I see,” she muttered, and then, louder, “It’s so nice to see you, young man. Every friend of Jensen is a friend of the family. Welcome to the Ackles household. Though I’m not sure you guys are dressed appropriately.”

Turning to Jensen again, she looked worried. “Where on earth have you been, dear? Your hair is all dusty. And what’s that terrible bag on your shoulder? What happened to the nice suitcase I bought you for your birthday last year? Is it already out of style?”

Jensen felt his knees go weak at the flood of questions, and summoning the courage all liars and fools inherited he replied “Well, that’s kind of a funny story, mom. One I’d like to tell in detail but as Simon already pointed out so helpfully, I’m terribly late and desperate to see my brother. But if you wanna hear the highlight reel: our luggage got lost on the journey, along with the ridiculously expensive present I purchased for my dear brother—” Jensen shot his stepfather a sidelong glance before he continued—”and we had to make do with just what we have with us. But arrangements are already made and I’m certain I’ll have my stuff back in no time. Don’t worry, Mom.”

Donna’s eyebrows shot upwards and she didn’t seem convinced, but with a shrug she led them further into the cool half-light of the building until they reached the foot of the marble staircase.

“Well, I’m sad to hear about this unfortunate turn of events, but I’m sure upstairs we’ll find a proper suit for you and your friend to wear. Just go and take a look in your brother’s closet, dear, you still wear about the same size and he doesn’t mind.”

Nodding, Jensen watched his stepfather wordlessly leave towards the garden—where undoubtedly the party was about to start, judging from the manifold voice that floated in through the spacious kitchen—and put on a brave face when he pulled Jared forward.

“That’s Jared by the way, he’s a… work colleague,” he lied and if Jared was irritated by the sudden lie, he didn’t show it, and instead smiled politely.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said with a soft voice, and though he didn’t grip the hand Jensen’s mother offered in greeting, it was alright. Not half as awkward and stiff as Jensen had suspected.

They stayed for a brief moment to exchange pleasantries with Donna—with Jensen doing most of the talking and Jared only humming his agreement here or there—before she sent them upstairs to clean up and find themselves the appropriate clothing the event called for.

“And Jensen? Please hurry, everybody’s been waiting for you,” she said when they were already at the top of the flight of stairs. “You’re my son, and as such you’re a part of this family. Don’t forget that.”

Stomach plummeting, Jensen nodded before heading down the hallway and towards his brother’s room, pulling Jared along until the door clicked shut behind them.

Unlike Jensen, Josh had never quite managed to move out of the gigantic mansion, and his closet was brimming with suits, the ensuite bathroom still fully stocked with clean towels and most likely unholy expensive shower gels and aftershave. They picked out a simple, navy suit for Jensen and a crisp button-down and blazer for Jared. He would wear the only pair of skinny jeans Josh seemed to own since Jared’s waist was too trim to fit into any of the dress pants.

“Don’t worry, you’ll look amazing,” Jensen said at the inquiring look on Jared’s face. “It’s no knitted, paint-splattered sweater of course, but you’ll do.”

Jared laughed at the reminder of the holey, dirty pullover he was wearing and grinning, he watched his friend head towards the bathroom.

Jensen decided to make good use of what little time he had on his hands, and splashing water on his face, he got started. He carefully avoided looking into the mirror for too long, and was done with his routine within less than ten minutes. Teeth brushed and after slipping into the somewhat tight around the shoulders suit he had found in Josh’s closet, he stepped outside again to find Jared standing in the middle of the room, looking utterly lost.

“Hey buddy,” Jensen said and had to bite back a laugh at the bewildered look on Jared’s face. “Do you need help with the buttons?”

Having lost pants and sweater, the baggy, white shirt looked almost like a lazy, bizarre dress on him, and with a groan, Jared nodded frantically. “I don’t understand how anyone would decide to wear something like this voluntarily,” he said, squinting at the object in question.

Jensen laughed. “It’s to give the illusion of being accomplished.”

“Accomplished? Well, I think it’s kinda stupid,” Jared replied and slipped into the shirt with a frown.

There was really no way Jensen could disagree, so instead he stepped a little closer. Carefully—as if to keep from startling Jared—he picked up the shirt’s hem and started to fasten it up. One button at a time, he slowly made his way up.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me,” Jensen said when he pushed the topmost button through its hole and his fingers brushed against the soft, delicate skin of Jared’s neck. It was still bruised and tender, probably sore to the touch, but Jared didn’t complain so Jensen rested his fingertips there a while longer, where the prominent collarbone met the gentle dip beneath Jared’s throat.

“I promised,” Jared said. “In your kitchen. Remember?”

Nodding slowly, Jensen tried to find his speech and Jared laughed softly. The sound made the room so much bigger and hotter and not wanting to feel that weird, unsettling sensation in his heart too much, Jensen carefully brushed a thumb across Jared’s throat.

“I do,” he croaked and grabbing a cream-colored, silk scarf from the open closet drawer, he carefully tied it around Jared’s neck to hide the galaxy of angry reds and purples from prying eyes.

Standing very still, Jared let Jensen touch him to his heart’s content and only when they leaned away did he ask, “Why did you say I was a work colleague?”

“Because it’s easier that way,” Jensen said truthfully. “You’re my friend and don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And trust me, if they knew how we really met, they _would_ make it uncomfortable and not only for me. I love my family, but they wouldn’t understand. They never do.” There was a brief pause where Jensen considered his words and when he spoke again, it was very soft, subdued like the colors on a winter morning. “I’m sorry if I offended you, Jay. I just wanted to protect you.”

“Okay,” Jared said simply after a few moments of consideration and wistfully he watched Jensen’s fingers still against his skin.

“Please don’t think I’m ashamed of who you are or where you come from—” Jensen said, and the choke of guilt distorted his voice, his ribcage suddenly too tight to contain the thundering things inside.

“But I am,” Jared cut in very quietly. “And I’m grateful you didn’t tell your mother. I don’t like lying, but from what I understand sometimes it’s easier to lie.”

Jensen’s heart was aching for Jared, and in a rush of affection he cupped Jared’s face to hold him tightly in place. “Never be ashamed of who you are, Jared, you hear me? You’re the kindest, most forgiving person I know and I won’t let you forget it.”

Jared’s eyes were wide and he looked almost spooked, his pink mouth hanging slightly open. He was devastatingly beautiful, so frail and ethereal and perfect in a way no human had the right to be.

“Jensen,” he breathed, and nuzzling his face into Jensen’s palm they tipped their foreheads together for a beat, just to breathe. The world shifted just enough so that time would slip out of its loop and Jensen swept his thumb across the bright flush of Jared’s cheeks until the moment caught up to them and they pulled apart.

A myriad of voices wafted up from the garden as a harsh reminder of the ongoing event downstairs, and with a nervous smile Jensen stepped back to give Jared enough space to shimmy into the skinny jeans. They were anything but a tight fit, but they would do.

“You can go freshen up in the bathroom,” Jensen said as he clumsily helped Jared into the elegantly tailored blazer. “Use whatever you want from the rack, I’ll be waiting here for you.”

“Yes,” Jared said, and turning to look into the full-body mirror he added. “I look different.”

That had to be the understatement of the year, and with a thoughtful look on his face, Jensen sent Jared to clean up. Jensen had been fascinated with the lean, somber lines of Jared’s body from the beginning. He was all sharp angles, poking bone and jabbing ribs, with a lanky frame and the slim waist of a man who hadn’t been allowed a lot of exercise in his life, always holding himself like he wasn’t quite sure how to fit all those flailing limbs into a proper posture. But there was an undeniable, awkward, disastrous beauty in the way his chest dipped with every breath and Jensen wasn’t sure he was supposed to feel so much at the sight of so little.

“Do I really have to wear these?” Jared asked when he stepped into the bedroom again, a pair of shiny brown leather shoes dangling from his hands.

Snickering, Jensen nodded. “Just for tonight, I promise.”

“I don’t like them.”

“Do it for me?” Jensen pleaded and Jared begrudgingly agreed to give it a try, at least until everyone was appropriately tipsy and unable to care about the lack of leather around Jared’s dirty feet.

After having brushed the last specks of paint out of Jared’s hair in a combined effort, they trailed back downstairs and into the backyard to join the party guests. Jensen found his mother in the crowd and with one hand resting reassuringly on the small of Jared’s back, he stirred them through the masses.

“There you go,” Donna chirped as soon as she spotted both men amongst the guests and with a smile she kissed Jensen’s cheek. “Looking handsome as ever. And what a dashing young man you are, Jared.”

Jensen smiled, Jared blushed, and together they moved through the crowd to greet family and friends alike. There were a lot of familiar faces moving on the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the garden, another huge cluster assembling around the buffet in the far corner to the North. Delicate party lights sparkled in the gently swaying treetops above their heads and an enormous, seven tier monster of a wedding cake in soft, pastel yellow towered next to the fountain by the gazebo. A jazz band spread a frisky mood amongst the party guests; the spirits were high with champagne being poured by the many waiters and amidst it all Jensen spotted Sookie in a feathery, white dress with a wafting train of soft, translucent tulle trailing behind her. Her glossy red hair was pulled into an artistic bun and the twinkle in her eyes outshone the sparkling diamond clips on her delicate ears by far. She was as beautiful as on the day she had dumped Jensen, and with a lump in his throat he approached her, clearing his throat.

“Hey Sooks,” he said clumsily and watched recognition dawn on her features as she turned around. “Congratulations on your marriage to my idiot brother. You could have done so much better.”

“Jensen?” Sookie gasped and squinting she shook Jensen’s hand. “I still can’t tell when you’re joking.”

Jensen laughed apologetically. “I am, in fact, just messing with you,” he said and was surprised to find he was telling the truth. After all these years, the underlying bitterness was finally gone, and with a sincere smile he said, “I’m glad you guys made it official, Sooks. Welcome to the family.”

The bride flushed bright red at that and even pulled Jensen in for a sharp hug, stepping back to curtly and politely acknowledge Jared before she was whisked away by her many giggling bridesmaids to do a make-up check.

“Was that your friend?” Jared asked as soon as she was out of sight and waited for Jensen’s nod before he added, “She is very beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Jensen sighed, and turning around he found Jared pale and shaky, his eyes darting across the crowd like he was frantically searching for an escape. Right, Jensen thought, suddenly remembering hotly that Jared got nervous around strangers, and with a reassuring squeeze of Jared’s knobby shoulder he said, “Let’s go and find you some food, shall we? Plenty of time to meet the rest of the horde later.”

They met Jensen’s brother by the buffet, right next to the pork roast. He was balancing a dangerously overstuffed plate in one hand and a glass of champagne in the other, scowling as soon as Jensen came in sight.

“Brother,” he said with a scoff. “So glad you made it. How did you enjoy the ceremony? Oh wait, you missed it!”

Cocking a brow, Jensen measured his brother with a cool gaze. “Calm down, Josh. It’s not like I’ve never seen a wedding before. Are you seriously upset because I couldn’t be fucked to watch to you and Sooks being all lovey-dovey in front of everyone? And besides, you could have hardly missed me with all these people around, now could you?”

“As it turns out I did, you complete jackass. I’m just glad that I didn’t ask you to be my best man, ‘cause that would have been hell of an embarrassment.” Josh sneered, and putting his plate down, he turned away from his brother in order to greet his company.

“You must be Jared,” he said, irritation tight on his face when Jared didn’t shake the hand that was offered and instead just nodded. “You work with my brother, I heard? Anything serious or just horsing around and occasionally covering for his ass when shit hits the fan? Actually, don’t bother, I already know the answer.”

Jared’s eyes went wide and Jensen was about to angrily chime in, when the music died and Sookie’s father stepped up to the microphone to make an announcement. Josh’s interest in Jared faltered, and with a terse apology he left towards the stage, leaving his stuffed plate behind.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Jared said once they settled at one of the small, round tables off to one side of the crowd. The wind was bristling through the treetops above them and lightning was crackling on the horizon, the dusky pink sky blended out by a bank of looming clouds.

Jensen cocked his head. “You mean Josh? Nah, he’s just messing with you,” he said and watched Jared thoughtfully chew on a piece of honey-roasted chicken. They got themselves each a plate full of everything, and away from the crowd and the heavy, cheery vibe, Jared seemed to be less skittish and more himself. The firm tension slowly drained out of his shoulders and the hard lines around his mouth had vanished as soon as they sat down.

Jensen had wanted to talk about it in the car, make a plan, be helpful and possibly suggest a safe word in case Jared panicked. But admittedly he had been too much of a coward, and once again guilt was churning in his stomach as he watched Jared’s wide, deer-eyes flitting across the cheery crowd from a safe distance.

“I have never been to a wedding before,” Jared said after he’d swallowed a spoonful of mashed potato. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like.”

Forking through his salad, Jensen tried to muster up an appetite. “And? Do you like it?”

“I think so,” Jared admitted. “The music is great, and I like these.” He pointed at a small stack of white and purple macaroons that were piled up on a plate in the middle of the table. They were more or less part of the decoration, but Jared seemed to have found a liking for the pastry and happily munched away.

“What is this for?” he asked after he’d finished off most of what was on his plate. “I found it on my seat.” Holding out his palm to Jensen, he showed him a small, skillfully folded origami blossom in powder blue.

“Oh,” Jensen said with a smile. “That’s a thing my family does instead of a seat reservation. Everyone gets one, as a token they can take home. And whoever still has it in their possession after a couple of years gets to have a free drink with the bride and groom. It’s kinda silly, but it’s a tradition that stuck. They’re neat, don’t you think?”

Jared’s mouth was shaped into a perfect O as he listened to Jensen’s explanations and with a newfound appreciation for the tiny bloom he picked it up gingerly to marvel at it from every angle.

“Can I keep mine?” he asked after a full minute of intent observation and his voice was laced with awe.

Jensen nodded. “Of course,” he replied and fleetingly brushed a thumb across Jared’s wrist to catch his attention. “Keep it, and next time you’re sad you can pull it out and remember the good times we had together.”

“Are you gonna go away?” Jared asked, alarmed, and tucking away the flower into the pocket of the blazer, he focused his attention solely on Jensen.

Gulping, Jensen looked away. “I don’t plan on it, that’s for sure,” he muttered and hoped it sounded reassuring when he added, “Don’t worry, Jay, it’s gonna be fine.”

As the evening progressed, the wedding celebrations went on and things played out pretty decently for Jensen. More party lights flickered to life when the sun sank beneath the horizon and the music was upbeat and festive, the majority of the guests happily within the realm of officially drunk. Jensen had a grand time talking to a few of his former classmates, and with Jared mostly staying behind and trailing after him, things worked out in their favor. The mood was light, and even though Simon did a damned good job of never letting Jensen forget about his mishaps whenever he crossed their way, Jensen was ready to chalk up the evening as a general success.

That was right up until Josh—now pleasantly buzzed and properly sentimental—asked Jensen to come join them for a round of charades. Jensen was mildly amused about the way his brother declared him to be the “only acceptable option”, but turned serious when he faced Jared.

“What do you think, Jay?” he asked quietly as soon as his brother had staggered away with the promise of Jensen joining them momentarily.

Jared looked spooked, but whispered “I think you should go,” after considering the question for a few seconds.

“Are you sure?” Jensen asked, leaning in a little closer. He was torn, his resolution to not get involved wavering with the prospect of making things up to Josh. But his stomach was flip-flopping at the thought of leaving Jared behind and to his own devices in a yard full of strangers. “You could come with,” he added hastily and watched Jared shake his head.

“No, go,” he said and gently nudged Jensen out of his personal space and off the chair. “Go, I’ll be over here waiting for you to get back.”

Straightening up hesitantly, Jensen shot his friend another quizzical look and only when Jared replied with a firm nod did Jensen leave to squeeze through the masses until he reached the dance floor, where the rest of his family already was waiting for him to get the game started.

Charades turned out to be a lot more fun than Jensen had remembered and by the time they made it to the second round, everybody including Jensen was wheezing with laughter. They had paired him up with Joshua and Sookie’s sister Eleanor and things quickly dissolved into general silliness and alcohol-induced giggle fits on Eleanor’s side when Joshua had to mime the word _gherkin_. Around them, the party was reaching its peak, and the few guests that didn’t partake in the game either joined the jeering crowd or were getting shit-faced at the bar. The music had changed from smooth jazz to a faster, louder genre and Jensen soon felt his ears ringing from the aggressive, violently dancey pop beat. Somewhere a bunch of men hollered lewdly and Jensen was getting ready for his next phrase— _jellyfish invasion_ —when a sudden uproar sparked in the back of the yard, interrupting the humorous ongoings on the dance floor. Voices became loud, heads twisted to find the source of the disturbance, and Jensen felt as if someone had just about punched his stomach through his spine.

Cursing, he scrambled off his assigned chair and was already halfway through the crowd before his family could even call for him to wait and come back. On wobbly legs and with his brain rattling against his skull with every step, he shoved and pushed through the crowd, stumbled across the lawn in Joshua’s too big shoes and almost crashed into the wall of bodies that clustered, cumbersome, around the table where Jensen had left Jared.

Only Jared’s seat was empty now, and the four men that stood gathered around were blinking dazedly at Jensen’s sudden, abrasive entrance.

“Where is he?” Jensen yelled and was already spinning around to scan the surroundings. His heart was beating out of control, and the excruciating realization that he had failed Jared ricocheted through his body.

“We just wanted to do a shot with him,” one of the men—Jensen recognized him as Eleanor’s husband—said in a somber voice, clumsily scratching his head.

Dread clogged Jensen’s throat when he repeated his question, only to harvest more nonchalant shrugs. One of them actually had the decency to blush, even more so when people kept gathering around to figure out what had caused the unpleasant interruption of the game.

“We didn’t do nothin’,” the guy to Jensen’s right slurred and put up his hands in a denying gesture. “We just came over to have a little chat and when Mike here asked him to do a shot with us the crackpot flipped his shit.”

Jensen tried to tamp down on the violent fury that spread through his belly. With a groan, he reminded himself to stay calm and between gritted teeth he choked out, “And where is he now? He didn’t vanish into thin air, now, did he?”

The men shrugged in unison. “We didn’t mean anything by it,” Eleanor’s husband said and huffed heavily. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed and Jensen wanted to punch him so badly.

“I don’t care,” he growled instead, with barely concealed anger. “But I distinctly remember repeatedly asking a question and I demand an answer. Now!”

Meanwhile the groom had arrived at the scene, and clamping a hand down on Jensen’s shoulder, he slurred. “Chillax, man, what the fuck is going on?”

“We just wanted have a good time, mate. This is a wedding isn’t it?” the tallest of the four men said with a shrug, his bowtie hanging off-kilter. “But this guy straight up didn’t answer and when Mike tried to pull him up he fucking freaked and pushed us away.”

At this point, Jensen was seething, and with a snarl he stepped a little closer to the guy until he was right up in his fuck-ugly face. “I don’t care what your intentions were, _mate_. But if you don’t tell me where my friend ran off to within the next three seconds, I swear to god I’ll shit a brick and fuck you up.”

The guy’s eyes went wide at the calm, controlled tone of Jensen’s taut voice and with a scoff he said, “That way,” before vaguely pointing towards the house.

Josh’s grip faltered on Jensen’s shoulder, and more voices grew loud, demanding an explanation for the sudden tumult. Someone complained about having been shoved to the ground and Jensen vaguely registered the woman in front of him exclaiming about having been pushed into her plate by a passing stranger.

Simon stepped forward right as Jensen was about to leave, and with a groan he asked, “What’s going on, Jensen? What have you done this time? Christ, isn’t there a single thing in this world that’s sacred to you?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jensen spat and before anybody else could intervene he started moving through the crowd, completely ignoring Josh’s confused, drunk babbling and the agitated protest of his step-father. He didn’t care about the guests complaining as he abruptly shoved past them, head down and thoughts coming thick and fast. The fretful thud-thud-thud of his heart was drowning out the now quickly approaching thunder, and he thought he might go crazy with the intense, conflicting emotions that swept through him like treacherous wildfire. He could feel his fear for Jared like pinpricks in the nape of his neck, and stumbling forward he tried to swallow the bitter panic.

By the time he made it to the porch, word seemed to have spread and people wisely stepped aside to make room for the bulk of Jensen’s body. Aching and sore from the sudden sprint, he entered the cool darkness of the kitchen and kept on yelling Jared’s name until the sight of the open front door turned his voice into a strangled sob.

“Please no,” he groaned, and spurting down the hallway he almost tripped over the doormat as he ran outside. The thunder was even louder on this side of the mansion, the air whirring with lightning, crackling on the horizon. A feral wind was tugging on the treetops and Jensen felt its cooling touch traveling down his spine as he bolted onto the driveway. Gravel was crunching under his feet and spinning on his heels he tried to figure out a way to go.

“Jared?” he called into the half-light of the fuzzy shadows. “Jared, where are you?”

There was no reply and after taking a few, steadying breaths, Jensen made the spontaneous decision to take off towards the stable building. He could still hear the agitated voices of the wedding party when he fell into a sharp trot.

“Jared? Jared it’s me, Jensen,” he yelled into the darkness, squinting as he peered into the shadows. Donna’s horses were stomping their hooves anxiously when Jensen entered the stables, but apart from the occasional whinnying the world remained silent.

Cursing, Jensen made his way through the backdoor, and looping around the building, he found himself North of the parking lot with the mansion facing away from him, and pressing a hand to his rioting stomach, he made to shout again. Only this time the sound of his own, stifled voice didn’t reverberate from the stone walls, but was carried out into the fields by the stiff breeze and Jensen winced.

“Jared? Christ, Jared where are you? Please talk to me, I’m going fucking nuts!” the open plains of waving grass echoed back at Jensen as if to mock him, and stumbling forward, he tried to find his way through the mess of parked cars. He stubbed his toes at least twenty times and was pretty sure he left a dent in the delicate metal of a Lamborghini’s hood, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he blindly he staggered around, shouting Jared’s name until his lungs felt raw and his chest was burning with the effort.

But his cries were met with silence and Jensen couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so entirely lost. Had he ever? He had been angry when his father died, desperate in that hot-headed, arrogant way young men find themselves to be when they get thrown off the loop by tragedy. The day his business was sold, he had been mostly drunk, frustrated after months of bargaining with the creditors. But it seemed never once had he been devastated in the face of reality, never so light-headed and hollow in the hands of the tide’s cruel, sudden shift. The gaping hole in his chest was not big enough to contain the fluttering of his thunderous heart, and with a gasp he leaned against the nearest car. Without Jared, he felt like he was drowning.

Jensen stopped calling for his friend when his throat turned scratchy. His legs felt heavy, and the noises from the mansion were an irritating source of distraction as he tried to find his way back through the maze of cars. Faintly, he registered the dull white of their rented truck to his left when he was just about ready to trail back, when he bumped into a sudden obstacle. It was too small to resemble a person, but Jensen was surprised to recognize one of Josh’s brown leather shoes when he bent down to pick up the object of interference. Jensen paused.

“Jared?” he asked softly, and carefully he stepped towards the truck. The other shoe lay scattered like an unwanted toy right in front of the vehicle and Jensen didn’t have time to celebrate his victory before he heard Jared’s small voice coming from the bed of the truck.

“Go away,” he sniffled and his voice was wet with sobs. “I’m not going back in there,”

Shuddering out a breath, Jensen put his hands on the car and slowly approached the small, huddled figure in the faraway corner of the truck bed, feeling his way forward.

“Jared,” he said softly. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” And because it felt so good, he said Jared’s name again, and his body ached to reach out to his friend. But Jared remained curled into himself, small and unmoving, like a tight ball of grief with his back thoroughly pressed against the cab. The sharp line of his hunched shoulders was the only thing Jensen could properly distinguish from where he stood, and feeling his knees buckle a bit, he leaned against the truck.

The silence was eerie, and Jared’s sobs maddening, every wet hiccup like a blade through Jensen’s heart.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen whispered eventually. “I’m so fucking sorry, I should have known better than to leave you alone.”

The outline of Jared’s body was unmoving, but it seemed like a little bit of the tension bled out of him at Jensen’s words.

“Shouldn’t have gone to join my stupid family, should’ve protected you. I’m so sorry, Jared. Can you forgive me?”

Seconds ticked by and the rolling thunder was the only response. The air was insufferably thick, tangy and chock full of electricity. Lights flickered to life inside the mansion, and Jared’s voice was very small when he asked:

“You’re not mad at me?”

Heart jamming inside his throat, Jensen shook his head. “Of course not, baby,” he muttered and decided not to dwell on the endearment that had slipped out just so, ever so easily. “Why should I be angry?”

Jared shrugged. “I dunno, ‘cause I ran,” he reasoned and sat up a little more, unfolding just the slightest bit.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Jensen heard himself ask, and the part of him that was not entirely bewitched by Jared’s voice and the unnervingly irregular rise and fall of his shoulders, felt hot with shame.

Taking a shaky breath, Jared shifted until he no longer faced away from Jensen. “Your friends came over. They asked if I wanted to drink with them, and I said no. They were laughing a lot, and asking my name, but I didn’t want them to know. One told me to not be so _stuck up_ , and then he grabbed my arm.”

A brief pause ensued and Jensen could almost _hear_ Jared biting his lip, his voice a little rougher and wetter when he continued.

“I didn’t like it very much, so I told him. But he was still laughing and pulled at my arm. It didn’t hurt much, but he’s a stranger, and strangers are not allowed to touch.”

Someone by the house hotly called Jensen’s name and it sounded suspiciously like his stepfather, but Jensen couldn’t be bothered to care so instead he bent a little more over the brim of the truck bed. “What happened then?”

“My chest went tight and I could feel my heart right here,” Jared said quietly and Jensen couldn’t be sure but thought he saw Jared briefly touch his throat. “I was breathing too fast, like I had just been running, and my legs were so heavy. The man kept pulling, and his friends wanted to help, and when I couldn’t see your face in the crowd anymore, I… I—”

“You panicked,” Jensen finished the sentence for him, and reached out to offer Jared his open palm. It was like Jensen was suffering from sensory overload when he felt the tentative slide of Jared’s fingers against his own and adrenaline surged out of him in a rush. With a thud he dropped his head against the cool metal of the car.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, lacing their fingers together until Jared could feel the scratch of the cherry-stem ring. “This is all my fault and I feel like a complete jackass.”

Jared kept quiet, but he did inch close enough that Jensen could feel the hot puff of his hitched breath in the back of his neck.

“I feel like I let you down. And for the record: these men are not my friends; actually far from it.” And looking into the pitch-black pools of Jared’s glassy eyes he whispered. “They had no right to touch you, and I’m glad you ran, Jay. Fuck, I should have been there.”

“So you’re not angry?” Jared asked again, voice a little wobbly but steadier than just a few moments ago.

Jensen stopped moving against the car, and tilting his head up so their noses could nudge, he murmured. “No baby, I’m not. I’m sad that you’re hurting, and relieved to have you back. But I have no reason to be angry.”

Humming his approval, Jared shifted until he sat flush against the edge, only the metal frame of the truck between him and Jensen’s chest. The air between them grew heavy, their bodies falling into each other, and slowly looping his arms around Jared’s waist, Jensen asked, “This okay?”

“Yes,” Jared whispered and let Jensen bury his face in his chest, his fingers shakily threading through the soft, short hair at the nape of Jensen’s neck. It was incredibly close, their bodies yielding together in a whisper of clothes and warm limbs.

They stayed like that until the voices by the mansion became too loud. Flashlights flickered to life against the overcast night sky, and Jensen felt his stomach drop when Jared carefully pulled away from him.

“Your family is looking for you,” he whispered, sounding terrified. “Do you think they’re gonna yell at me?”

Jensen was still quietly mourning the loss of warmth Jared’s body had been emanating when he said, “I won’t let that happen,” and his voice was a firm, solid wall of reassurance. “I won’t allow anyone to make you feel like running away, I swear. But if you want don’t want to see them ever again we can leave right now.”

With a quiet jingle, Jensen pulled out the car keys and for a moment Jared seemed to consider the offer. But then he shook his head, and with a tight voice he said, “But what about my backpack? The sea shells I gathered? It’s all I have and we left it in the hallway.”

Jensen felt like cursing again, but instead he nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right,” he said with a huff. “Do you want to stay here while I go and get it?”

“No,” Jared replied a bit too hastily, words almost tripping over his tongue. “I wanna go where you go, and I’ve had enough of being alone.”

Jensen couldn’t exactly say he liked the plan, but feeling the choke of guilt still tightly around his throat, he nodded and waited until Jared had clambered off the truck bed before reaching out again. “Are you sure?” he asked when Jared stepped next to him, their wrists brushing together in a gentle touch.

“Yes,” Jared said quietly, and let Jensen take him by the hand as they made their way towards the house and the ever-growing noise inside.

There was a small gathering of people by the front door—Jensen’s mother, Simon, Josh with his new wife—and a murmur of resentment seemed to waft through their rows when Jensen approached them deftly, attempting to push past them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Simon was first to speak up, his voice tight with anger. There was a steep crease between his eyes and his jaw was grinding like a millstone.

“We’re getting our stuff,” Jensen said matter-of-factly. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but sure wouldn’t back down either. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Yes, very much so,” Simon snapped and shook off Donna when she tried to put a soothing hand on his chest. “Who do you think you are? Waltzing in like you own the place, empty-handed, acting all high and mighty with that smug grin plastered all over your face?”

Scoffing, Jensen turned to take a look into the familiar faces: wide-eyed and swaying all of them, alcohol-infused and too dazed to process what was going on.

“You come here, into my house, and disgrace your brother’s wedding with your lateness. You don’t take any of this seriously, do you? You don’t call, you lie to your mother and on top of that you bring a stranger, one who’s obviously not in his right mind.”

Jensen flinched, and was ready to lash out at this staggering fool who eyed him with bloodshot eyes. Growling, he squared his shoulders and wanted to speak up, when he felt the soft shake of Jared’s hand against his own, the sharp intake of breath right by his shoulder. And just like that his anger fell away, his righteous fury dwindling as he realized he wasn’t only responsible for himself. Jared was hovering right by his side, and any further trouble was probably the last thing he needed after a night full of dreadful anxiety.

So instead of shouting, he said, “Please step aside, Simon,” very calmly and was surprised how cool and composed his voice sounded.

“What is wrong with you?” Simon sneered, spit flying from his mouth. “Do you really think you can leave after everything you did to ruin this evening? Just like that?”

“I’d like to think so, yes,” Jensen replied steadily. “And I’d appreciate if you’d move out of the way so I can grab our things. We’ll be out of here in no time.”

“No, no you won’t!” Simon exclaimed and didn’t even realize that both Donna and Josh were trying to contain him by pulling him back. “Neither you nor the wacky little nutjob you brought with you. You’ll both stay and explain yourselves or I swear to god I’ll bring you and your puny company down just as easily as  I built it.”

Jensen didn’t wince at the open threat so much as the plain rejection and disgust in his stepfather’s voice. It didn’t hurt, but sparked the flame of defiance in Jensen’s chest and with a cold, brittle laugh he said: “Well, then I find my myself in the unfortunate position of having to tell you that you’re too fucking late, _Dad_.”

Blinking slowly as if she had just been roused from a deep slumber, Donna chose that moment to chime in. “What do you mean, Jensen?”

“I _mean_ that I sold my company four months ago, and I’m currently balls-deep in debt. I live in a shithole, eat cheap Ramen noodles five out of seven days a week and last month I sat in the dark for three days in a row because I forgot to pay my bills. But it’s alright, you know, I’m taking the bus more often now and hey, we all gotta make adjustments once in a while.”

Jensen hadn’t intended on dropping the bomb, not like that, not at Josh’s wedding, but now that his mouth had come loose, he was on a roll.

“Hate to break it to you, but not part of your fancy rich bitch club, anymore, Simon—no offense Josh. And while I do have a stable income of about three hundred dollars per week from a low-profile job in a pet store, I don’t see myself coming back from the gutter any time soon. So if you’d please excuse me, I’d like to get my stuff and leave in my rented truck, with nothing but a borrowed suit and a pocket full of change, thank you very much.”

At this point, Simon was shaking with outrage, and Donna had clamped a hand across her mouth. Josh and Sookie were flatout gaping at the unforeseen turn of events, and everyone else seemed too shocked to convey any other emotions than plain, abrasive disbelief.

“Leave,” Simon eventually ground out in unconcealed fury. “Take your lies and your bat-shit crazy friend and leave my property so the rest of us can go back to enjoying the party. You’re no longer welcome in my home. You’re a disgrace, a failure, and I’d suggest you leave before I forget my good manners and call the police!” And with a snarl he jerked around to stalk inside, leaving a crowd of wide-eyed and bewildered people in his wake.

“Fine,” Jensen snorted, and swallowing his bristling anger he turned to Jared. “I’m gonna go get our stuff; you stay here.” When he noticed the terrified look on Jared’s face he added, “It’s alright, Jay. It’ll take just a moment. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

And suddenly the rain started to fall. It was like the world had been holding its breath for far too long, and with a crash of thunder the clouds broke open to hail a sheer storm flood of water down onto the dry, cracked earth beneath Jensen’s feet.

After that, everything happened in a blur. Jensen jogged inside to grab their luggage and was out before the rest of his family had a chance to catch up with him. Jared was still rooted to the spot when he returned, and finally his mother seemed to blink out of her daze at the sight of her son about to leave.

She didn’t ask him to stay, but she did whisper, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” when she pulled him into a half-hearted hug. Rain was soaking her blonde locks, and tears smeared her make-up when she pressed a key into his hands.

“Take Josh’s car,” she said with a hiccup. “Yours got boxed in after your uncle had to leave earlier and the valet is drunk.”

Jensen nodded, grateful about the small gesture of affection. But anxiety was trickling through his veins, and with a choked-up sob he asked. “Will you return the truck to Adrianne’s garage in Austwell? It’s due tomorrow.”

Donna nodded, and sadness was swimming in her eyes when she squeezed Jensen’s shoulder. “Be safe, okay? And call me tomorrow, we have lots to talk about.” And just like that, Jensen’s time with his family was over, and with a heavy heart he walked towards the waiting sportscar, Jared one step behind and his vision blurred by the sudden downpour.

“I don’t think you’re a failure,” Jared said softly into his ear, slipping his fingers into Jensen’s so he could hold on to the warm, wet skin, and ignore the feeling of his knees trying to buckle beneath him.


	5. Chapter 5

They would take the night bus back to Austin. Once they’d arrived in Santa Rosa, they’d park Josh’s car and wait for the next ride home. Jensen had been a fool to believe he could set things right by exposing Jared to a world he wasn’t ready for, and hot shame was curling in his belly. He had been overzealous, carelessly abandoning common sense, and in his imprudence he had hurt the one person he’d found himself caring about more than about anyone else. A shiver wracked Jensen’s body at the revelation, and the sound of Jared’s soft, wet sobs in the back of that truck bed would haunt him forever. With his hands cramping around the steering wheel, his gaze flitted over to Jared, stirring awake in the passenger’s seat. He had fallen asleep almost instantly, and looked spooked when consciousness returned to his mind, an uncertain smile plastered across his face when his gaze met Jensen’s.

“Are you okay?” he asked into the silence, hands balling into the too-long sleeves of the last, dry shirt Jensen had found at the bottom of his duffel bag—a gray Henley with a frayed hem. Jared had offered it in a gesture of politeness and Jared—already sick of the button-down and blazer—had gratefully accepted, changed right there in the passenger’s seat much to Jensen’s consternation.

Wincing, Jensen signalled as he turned into the parking lot. “I think so, yes,” he replied softly, wishing he was brave enough to take Jared’s hand, squeeze it a bit in reassurance until his heart didn’t feel like it was breaking anymore.

“You think your family is still angry with us?”

_Us._

Jensen tried not to sound like the bottom of his stomach had just dropped out when he said, “I don’t care.” It was gruff, his voice like gravel, and a little softer he added. “I’d rather be with you anyway. They don’t need me to have a good time and I don’t give a shit what they think about me— _us_. This whole going-to-the-wedding plan was a disaster from beginning to end and I wish I would have listened to my gut and stayed miles and miles away. So, yeah, they might still be angry at us, but I sincerely don’t care. I’m over it. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

Jared seemed somewhat more settled after Jensen’s reply, and with a crooked smile he unbuckled his seatbelt as soon as Jensen steered the sleek sports car into a parking spot. The deserted bus station looked gloomy in the upcoming darkness, threateningly looming over the street like a motionless beast waiting to attack. Dim streetlights flickered along the single platform, their yellow glow casting the surroundings in soft shadows and setting the rain ablaze in tiny sparks of gold and orange.

“Ready to get soaked?” Jensen asked as he kicked his door open after grabbing his duffel bag from the backseat.

Jared’s hands were clasped around the straps of his backpack, and he mirrored Jensen’s motion, smiling. “Right behind you.”

They abandoned the probably unholy expensive car in a parking spot next to a decades old Jeep without looking back. It was still warm, but the downpour had cooled down the surroundings significantly, if only for one night. Rain pelted down in fat streaks of cold water and both men shivered when they stepped under the small overhang above the ticket machine.

“I’m all wet,” Jared breathed out in a smile. It didn’t sound like a complaint.

Snorting, Jensen bought a ticket for each of them and shoved the spare change into his pocket before handing Jared his strip of paper. “Don’t lose it,” he said and it felt like an echo of a time long passed.

“Last time you said that the bus broke down,” Jared mused before lowering his head, wet bangs falling into his face. “Wouldn’t be the worst if it happened again, though. We could go and see the ocean again.”

Jensen’s heart rate spiked with the jolt of sympathy that tore through him like a thunderbolt. “We can do that without having to wait for an mechanical malfunction, you know,” he said and his stomach churned with guilt. He hadn’t told Jared yet where they were heading. And though Jared had to suspect something—he wasn’t an idiot after all—Jensen didn’t have the heart to tell him that he had to go back to the hospital eventually.

With eyes wide and doe-like, mouth curled into a slim line of sorrow, Jared looked up again, and for a second Jensen was sure that Jared could see the gears grinding in his head.

“I know that I have to, but I don’t wanna go back,” he said bitterly, wet cheeks flushed red in sudden distress. “I was so alone; I was hurting everyday. My heart was hurting. Even when Mother was still alive I was alone, and every night I wanted to be dead.”

Jensen couldn’t catch the choked-up sob that clambered out of his mouth, and shuddering, he leaned against the ticket machine. Around them, the world was drowning in water and darkness, but when Jared spoke everything seemed to narrow down to the small, dry spot they had occupied under the overhang.

“And the clinic is the same. They lock me up, and give me those bitter pills and hope that one day I’ll be okay again. But I know I won’t.” Jared’s voice became more urgent and his pink lips were shiny with rain. “I don’t even want to be. If that’s living, then I don’t want it. Talking to walls and fences and being just another name on Nurse Miner’s notepad. I don’t want it, Jensen, that’s why I climbed on that chair.”

Jensen felt his heart hammer against his ribcage like it wanted to punch through the solid bone, the lump in his throat the size of Canada. And only when Jared’s eyes flitted towards his hand did he notice the death grip he had on the strap of the duffel bag.

“I thought that maybe if I just tried hard enough it wouldn’t hurt anymore, and when you… when you didn’t let go in the bathroom, I was so angry. Why did you do that?”

Jensen’s chest was tight with all the answers, all those carefully laid out words that just didn’t want to spill out of his throat.

“I didn’t understand at first, but now I do. You showed me—and if being okay means being trapped behind thick walls then I don’t want to be okay. I don’t want a life like that,” Jared whispered, lips quivering and tears mixing with the rain on his cheeks. “If that’s life, take it then, Jensen, I don’t want it. You wanted me to be alive—”

“I did,” Jensen cut in hastily, voice cracking. “And I still do. Now more than ever.”

Jared’s hands were shaking around the clasps of his backpack, and he looked so small and frail again, skinny and hollowed out. The soft gray of the Henley had turned dark in the rain, the soaked collar brushing against the skin of his neck with a whisper where his moles were scattered across his skin like a constellation between the purple bruises. A whole universe just for them, Jensen thought. The hair behind Jared’s ear was curling a bit, just enough to frame the small shells, and Jensen wanted to press his face there so his lips could chase away the lingering chill on Jared’s skin.

Instead he drew in a slow breath, closed his eyes for a second to gather what was left of his poor bravery and said: “You know, we never got to dance.”

Jared’s lashes were clumped together by rain and tears, but his mouth turned up a tick at Jensen’s words. “Yeah,” he breathed, smiling quietly.

“Guess there is still time,” Jensen prompted and checking his watch to confirm, he found that he was indeed right: they had half an hour to kill before the bus would be wheezing into the station. “You wanna?”

Gasping, Jared looked around. “Here?”

“I don’t see why not.” Jensen replied nonchalantly. And extending his hand to Jared, he asked with his stomach tied into knots: “Would you give me the pleasure of this dance, Jared?”

For a terrible moment nothing happened and the rain’s steady hum became insufferable. Jensen felt like his heart was too big for his chest, his skin raw where it touched fabric, and the stiff breeze was trying to cast out the warmth that had been building in the close proximity of their bodies. But then Jared’s hand slipped into Jensen’s, their fingers linking together as they stepped away from the overhang and into the pouring rain.

The world shifted a bit when their bodies met, and Jensen swore he would feel the impact for the rest of his miserable life. Carefully Jensen brushed his palm against the small of Jared’s back, asking permission and letting out a shaky breath when Jared leaned into the gentle touch. Rain was sluicing down their backs, and with a blush creeping up his cheeks, Jared whispered, “But I don’t know how to dance.”

“Easy,” Jensen said softly, his lips unintentionally grazing against the delicate line of Jared’s ear. “Just stay close and follow my lead. I’ll do the rest.”

Jared’s muttered “okay,” sounded beautifully broken, and with one arm looped around Jared’s trim waist and the other hand holding Jared’s fingers in a sure grip, Jensen started to move.

It was nothing like in the movies—much more awkward, definitely a little clumsy on Jared’s part—but it was _them_. Jared tumbled into Jensen more than he followed his steps, tripped over his own feet, and his wet fingers almost slipped through Jensen’s grip, making them both laugh breathily. But after a few, awkward sways and staggers, they eventually fell into the same rhythm and soon the world turned into a blur of yellow light and the soft contours of Jared’s body close to Jensen’s.

“Let me—” Jensen muttered after a while of silently moving under the rain’s steady downpour, and with a soft click of his throat he started humming. He didn’t even know which song it was, but judging from the way Jared leaned in closer until their foreheads were gently tipped together he seemed to like it.

His eyes were hooded, his mouth slightly open as he breathed quietly. Damp curls were plastered to his forehead, the arch of his back curled into Jensen, and his bare feet dragging against the concrete in their slow, silent dance.

It was beautiful in a way that made Jensen’s chest ache: kind of tragic, sacred and frail as the rain washed away tears, sweat and the guilt of the past days.

Of course, that was when Jensen heard the undeniable, haunting sound of police sirens wailing towards them, and his stomach lurched. They were close, too, the sound growing louder and louder.

“Jared,” he whispered, his voice tight. He had stopped moving altogether and his hands curled into the soaked fabric of the shirt on Jared’s back. He wanted them to step out of sight, to shift out of the rain and hide when he heard too many screeching tires coming to a halt in front of the bus station.

Jared was shaking in his arms, and his eyes reflected the frantic panic in Jensen’s own, along with the heartbreaking realisation of betrayal. Overwhelming fear swam in those soft, hazel irises, his hands clutching at Jensen. He looked like he wanted to say something with his lips parted on a single word, but sudden manifold footfalls against the hard concrete interrupted whatever was waiting on his tongue.

Until the very last moment, Jensen hoped this would be just one big mistake, an unfortunate coincidence, anything but the painful sting of betrayal by his own family. But when the policemen rounded the corner—helmets and uniforms rain-wet, handcuffs quietly jingling against their belts—there was no doubt that those angry, intimidating men had been coming for Jensen. For _them_.

“Jensen Ackles?” One of the uniforms yelled gruffly, hands on the clip that held the gun in place by his side. “I’m Officer Wade. You’re under arrest for the kidnapping of Jared Padalecki. Please step away from the patient with your hands above your head.”

“I didn’t kidnap anyone,” Jensen replied firmly, pulling Jared a little closer in defiance. Rain was blurring his vision and he shouldn’t have been so bold in the face of a hoard of armed, angry policemen. But Jared was terrified and his face pulled into a mask of sheer panic, leaving Jensen no choice but to muster up some ill-advised bravery.

“Mr. Ackles, we have evidence that leads us to believe you have been involved in the abduction of one Jared Padalecki, the very same patient that’s standing next to you. You’re officially under arrest, and I’ll ask you again—one more time—to take a step away from him.”

Snorting, Jensen shook his head. “Well, I’d say that’s a steaming pile of bullshit. Jared isn’t my hostage, he’s my friend.”

The policeman—who seemed just as opportunistic and shifty as his voice was annoying—changed his stance and his hand fell to the clip on his belt that held his gun in place. “Last chance, Mr. Ackles. Step away from the patient and keep your hands up where we can see them.”

Despite acting so cooly, there was bile rising in Jensen’s throat when he turned to look away from the officers. “Jared,” he said softly and with fear nesting somewhere behind his lungs, making him wheeze. “Do you want me to step away?”

Jared’s reply was a vehement, immediate shake of his head.

“Then I’m staying” Jensen said solemnly, curling his arm a little tighter around Jared’s trembling waist. “I need you to know, though, that they’ll make me do it if I don’t do what they say. Do you understand? They’ll pull me away; that’s what they do. It’s their job.”

“Don’t go,” Jared whispered, lips turning blue in the cold rain. “I don’t wanna be alone anymore, Jen. Please.” And there was nothing left for Jensen to do besides to brush a thumb across Jared’s prominent cheekbone with a reassuring nod.

When he spoke up again—this time with his voice wavering against the rain’s steady hum—he was almost dead with fear and his heart was thudding out of his chest. But he held his ground firmly and Jared’s body flush against his. “I will not cooperate,” he said loudly and within the blink of an eye all hell broke lose.

The policemen moved in a blur of black canvas and with their batons at the ready. Their formation was immaculate, their every move like a painstakingly rehearsed choreography and they were upon Jensen in a flash, five pairs of hands suddenly clawing at him. Strong, gloved fingers wrenched his wrists away from Jared before yanking them behind his back. Someone rammed a foot into the back of his knees and with a gasp Jensen went down. The impact knocked all the wind out of his lungs, the cords of muscle down his back screaming with agonizing pain.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you by the state,” the shifty officer growled next to Jensen’s ear before smacking him in the back of his head. “Fucking scum.”

Someone slapped handcuffs on Jensen, another pressed a knuckled fist between his shoulder blades until Jensen felt like every nerve ending along his spine had been set on fire, his joints violently dislocated. And yet Jensen didn’t scream. Truth be told, he wasn’t paying enough attention to what was currently happening to him to really care.

His eyes were fixed on Jared’s face, his gaze searching the mole next to Jared’s nose, the laugh lines around his mouth, the dip of his cupid’s bow above the soft curve of his coral red lips. He didn’t even blink; instead he listened to his friend’s horrified scream when a policeman tried to pull Jared away, and that’s when Jensen lost it.

“Leave him alone!” he screamed over the downpour of rain. “Leave him alone, don’t fucking touch him, you shits!”

The policemen only snorted, and Jensen yelled again. “He doesn’t like to be touched; fucking back off! Get off him! Leave him alone!”

He was moving now, too, trying to jerk away from the death-grip the officers had on him. He must have caught the men off guard, judging from their surprised gasps, and using the momentary confusion, Jensen propelled himself upward and scrambled to his feet. “Let him go!—Jared, hang on!”

Jensen could feel his throat ache with how loud he was screaming, his lungs pulling tight and his windpipe burning like he’d swallowed acid. His hands had instantly gone numb from the press of the cuffs, his vision blurred by rain and—to his own surprise—stinging tears.

“Leave him alone. Fuck, let him go!” he spewed, then softer, “Jared, hey, look at me. Hang in there buddy, I’m gonna—”

Jensen went down halfway to Jared. Someone got a hold of him and a bone-crushing kick sent him to the ground. Gravel was digging into the skin of Jensen’s knees when his pants ripped from the impact, his vision momentarily graying out.

“Jensen,” Jared’s screamed over the rain and the cursing policemen. “Jensen! No, no, don’t leave me alone! Let me help him!”

Jensen didn’t intend to give up yet, but a gloved hand grabbed into the short hair in the nape of his neck and pushed him face first into the dirt until he could taste concrete. And still he cried: “Hang in there, Jay. I’m coming to get you, baby. I promise. Just don’t climb on that chair again, you hear me? Don’t you dare stand on that fucking chair, Jared. Jared? Fuck, baby! I’m not gonna leave you!”

And then—finally—someone pulled up Jensen’s face enough to plaster a piece of duct tape across his mouth so the world could fall silent. Only it didn’t, and Jensen heard Jared screaming his name over and over and over again all the way while a group of five dragged him to the police car. Still having some fight left in him, Jensen tried to jerk away from the policemen's’ vice-like grips, kicked, yanked on the handcuffs, and glared daggers at his guards. But it was all for naught. They shoved him into backseat, made sure his seat belt was in place, and made Jensen listen to Jared’s desperate, terrified screams until the door slammed shut.

It was the last thing Jensen heard of Jared in a long time, and in that moment, in the back of a police car and with his hands cuffed behind his back, knees sticky with blood, and ruined button-down soaked from the rain, Jensen realized what it meant to be in love.

 ♦ 

The next few hours seemed to roll by in a blur. Eventually the police car's engine rumbled to life under Jensen’s feet and they drove off, away from Jared. Rain was thrumming against the roof in a steady downpour and the world drowned in grey and the tacky, yellow light of the streetlights passing by. Two officers were talking in the front of the car; no music played through the dull hum of the tires against a rain-wet street. The stale air was suffocating, and seemed to want to swallow Jensen whole.

Jensen—crammed between front and back seat, hands cuffed behind his back and lips twitching underneath the duct tape—welcomed the sentiment, groaning when an officer yanked him out into the rain as soon as the car came to a stop.

The police station was unimpressive, small, bright and tidy as far as Jensen could see. A few officers were bustling around their desks in those terrible, green fluorescent overhead lights.

“Sit down,” the officer that had Jensen’s arm seized in a death-grip grunted, pushing him towards a cheap-looking plastic chair inside a small office. “Sheriff will be here in a minute.”

Obediently, Jensen did as he was told and only winced when the guy showed him the mercy of ripping off the duct tape. He asked Jensen a few questions and and barely waited for Jensen to grind out a negative before he unceremoniously walked out. The door clicked shut shortly after, leaving Jensen alone with his thoughts and a painful itch around his bruised lips.

Alone with nothing but his thoughts, Jensen’s mind quickly drifted to Jared and with a hitch in his breath, he realized that there was not a single cell in his body that wasn’t aching for Jared. His chest was constricted, caged, clenched like a fist, and he couldn’t stop replaying the scene at the bus station in his head: the dance, the feeling of Jared’s body pressed against his, the absolute devastation that followed and drowned out every other sensation. It felt as though Jensen had committed a wasteful act of terror against himself, and it left him hurting and so incredibly raw, fragile and ready to crack open, to pour out the guilt, the remorse, the suffocating memory of Jared calling his name in such a panic and the realization that he foolishly let himself become vulnerable like a goddamn rookie.  

When the sheriff—a woman in her mid-thirties with her wavy, wheat-blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail—eventually strolled in, Jensen almost welcomed the distraction.

“Mr. Ackles? I’m Sheriff Briana Buckmaster,” the woman introduced herself as she got seated behind her desk, shoving a stack of files out of her way. “Before we begin I want to make sure you heard and understood your rights and that you don’t have to tell me anything without your legal advisor being present?” She waited for Jensen’s nod. “Yeah? Okay, moving on then. I believe you know why I’m here?”

Trying to shrug and failing miserably, Jensen shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Depends on what _I’m_ in here for,” he replied. “I didn’t kidnap anyone—”

“Mr. Ackles,” the sheriff cut in. “You and me both know that’s not entirely true. My men told me what happened out there, and I have here the record of the St. Pennywise Hospital in Austin that claims you abducted their patient—” she shuffled through one of the files—“Jared Padalecki, four days back after an unfortunate incident in the bathroom.”

Snorting, Jensen kicked back in his chair until his shoulders popped painfully. “Unfortunate incident? Is that what they call it nowadays?”

Sheriff Buckmaster looked a little bit sheepish when she continued. “Mr. Padalecki was reported missing by Dr. Smith on Tuesday night—I assume he has been with you the entire time?”

Jensen grunted noncommittally in response, shrugging uncomfortably around the straining handcuffs.

“Mr. Ackles, I don’t think you quite understand what’s happening here, do you? There’s an ongoing investigation against you in the case of alleged kidnapping and the possible influence of the victim. You’re lucky if Dr. Smith isn’t going to press charges for compromising and negligence of a possibly asthenic person, too,” Sheriff Buckmaster explained with a steep crease of worry appearing between her neatly groomed eyebrows.

“But I didn’t even do anything,” Jensen exclaimed. “He followed me home and didn’t wanna leave, okay, that’s everything there is.”

“That may as be the case,” the woman shot back. “But surely you noticed that there’s something off with the kid while you guys took a nice little stroll through the countryside, didn’t you?”

Jensen felt like someone had sucker-punched him with a mean right hook right where it hurts. “He’s not _off_ ,” he ground out between painfully gritted teeth. “There’s nothing wrong with him, okay? He’s just a little shy, is all.”

“Oh yeah?” Sheriff Buckmaster inquired. “What about his past? Did he tell you that he was held captive by his mother until he was twenty-four?”

“What about it?” Jensen spat, now hovering on the edge of his seat. “It’s not his fault, and he’s not a fucking freak just because his childhood hasn’t exactly been a dance in the daisies. His mother groomed him into believing the outside world is full of shit, and you know what? She might have been right.” There was a brief pause and Jensen’s anger faltered. “He’s kind and gentle, you know—and that fucking hospital? It was _killing_ him to be trapped like that okay, that’s why he tried to hang himself.”

His heart felt violent in behind his ribcage, painfully thudding away like a jackhammer and making him gasp around a handful of words.

“He’s too good for that shithole, okay? And if you lock him up again like goddamn animal, he’ll die in there. He doesn’t need pills shoved down his throat and people treating him like an infant, what he needs is someone to help him and—”

The look on Sheriff Buckmaster’s face changed from agitated to concerned, almost commiserative. “Mr. Ackles, I know this must be very difficult for you, and I’m sure you do believe everything you say,” she said softly while chewing on her pen. “But you’re not a professional  and you don’t possess the skills nor the knowledge to make any assessment about Mr. Padalecki’s mental state. What happens to him is none of your business and it would be smart of you to stay away from such a delicate subject. What I want you to do instead is to tell me exactly what happened during the last three days so I can try to help you, you hear me?”

Jensen felt the roof of his mouth going dry at the sympathetic sound of the sheriff’s voice. “You don’t understand—” he muttered, only to get cut off by sheriff Buckmaster again.

“No, Mr. Ackles, it’s _you_ who doesn’t understand. You’re under the strong suspicion of having kidnapped a mentally unstable patient from the very same hospital you were to do community service in. And while I do understand your distress and believe that what Dr. Smith tells me is probably only half the truth, I won’t stand for anyone breaking the law.”

“Not under your watch, huh?” Jensen replied lamely, voice broken.

Sheriff Buckmaster snorted, half-amused. “Damn right, son. Now come on; spill, and we’ll see what I can do for you.”

Jensen did no such thing, but he did resign himself to answering the sheriff’s questions with a sort of defeated regret howling through the hollow of his rattling skull. Eventually a beautiful red-head—with the name _Huffman_ printed on her name tag—barreled through the door to rid Jensen of the handcuffs’ painful bite and to slap a cup of coffee down on the desk in front of him. She smelled like lilacs and rainwater and winked at the sheriff behind the desk before she left again.

The overheads flickered in an unsettling fashion when Sheriff Buckmaster finished taking down notes in what appeared to now be Jensen’s file.

“I think I got everything,” she said after a putting down the pen. “Or is there something else you want to add? Any afterthoughts, addendums, anything you might have left out?”

Shaking his head, Jensen took a sip from the thin, scalding-hot coffee. “No, Ma’am,” he replied weakly and with a sore throat.

“So that’s it then,” the woman concluded. “Are you familiar with the proceedings?”

“Proceedings?”

“You know that I can’t let you go tonight, right? You’re legally allowed to call your lawyer or your probation worker and you’re guaranteed lodging and a meal of your choice for the night until it becomes clear what the next legal steps are.”

“Lodging and a meal of my choice, huh?” Jensen repeated flatly.

Sheriff Buckmaster’s laugh sounded a little bit abashed when she added, “You can either have a burger or some homemade carrot soup. We, uh, we don’t get a lot of _visitors_ out here and the kitchen isn’t exactly up-to-par.”

Jensen felt a devastating, irrational and stupidly hollow bark of laughter lodging somewhere behind his lungs and scowling he swallowed it, along with a snarky remark. He was in absolutely no position to be a cocky asshole right now—not even a pretending, cocky asshole—and after signing a few different documents to confirm his statements, Sheriff Buckmaster lead him out of the office and into the painfully glaring light of the fluorescent overheads again. Her delicate fingers wrapped around Jensen’s upper arm in a surprisingly firm grip.

“Mr. Ackles, this is officer Penikett. He’s working the nightshift today and will lead you to your cell. If you have any further inquiries please let him know,” Sheriff Buckmaster said, introducing Jensen to a tall, handsome officer with a stern look on his face. “Which means we’re done for today, looks like. Do you want your phone call?”

Shaking his head, Jensen tried to fathom what was happening to him, all the while tamping down on the painful churning in his stomach that reminded him of the hole in his heart. Who would he call, anyway? His step-father, that fucking asshole? Or Kim, his probation worker, to freak her out in the middle of the night? He knew he couldn’t afford a lawyer, so that was out of the question, too, and after standing around awkwardly for a minute, he wordlessly followed the stern-looking officer into his cell.

Jensen was still reeling from the day’s events when he lied down on the narrow cot, desperately wishing his mind would shut up. But his heart was still beating and his lungs rattling painfully, and it was like someone had punched Jared out of his chest with the raw brutality of a tournament fighter. It reminded Jensen of being a child again and sore all over from having caught mono, except this time it wasn’t the fever that wanted to eat him alive, it was the scalding guilt paired with the uncompared, unconcealed pain of having lost something that was never supposed to be his.

His eyes blinked shut after tossing and turning on the thin mattress for several hours uncounted, and the last thing he thought of was Jared and how frightened he must be, how terrified and alone.

 ♦ 

He had politely declined the burger and carrot soup the night before, so when Jensen woke up after a night on the uncomfortable cot of a backwater police cell, he was feeling mildly dizzy. A guard shuffled in to drop a plate full of greyish-looking scrambled eggs on the small table—which Jensen refused to eat on the sole basis of how unappetizing they looked, despite his growling stomach—and after an hour of pacing, Sheriff Buckmaster finally appeared in Jensen’s line of sight.

“You’ve got a visitor,” she explained, opening the cell door with a loud clatter. “Would you please follow me?”

Jensen’s slacks were rumpled, his button-down full of wrinkles and his breath sour when he stepped in the small office, only to be greeted by his brother’s blank face.

“Jensen,” Josh greeted him flatly, giving him a curt nod. “You look like shit.”

Jensen couldn’t find it in him to scoff at that dumbass comment; instead he sat down on the chair he had been pointed towards. “What are you doing here?”

Leaning forward to rest his elbows on some random police officer’s desk, Josh licked his lips. “I’m here to get you out, little brother.”

Jensen felt his heart skip a beat. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“The bail. Simon made sure it was paid and I’m here to pick you up,” Josh replied nonchalantly and took a sip out of his fancy-looking thermos, smiling thinly through his hangover.

Jensen whistled. “Already? Doesn’t a judge need to pass my sentence first?”

“Turns out this is a small town, and it looks like you’re the only fuckwad dumb enough to get yourself in trouble.”

With a snort, Jensen leaned back in his chair. “So, Simon sent you?”

“Listen Jensen,” Josh said, looking at him with annoyance stirring behind his eyes. “I should be boarding a plane to the Philippines right now for my honeymoon with my beautiful wife, but instead I’m here to bail your sorry ass out of prison. So how about some gratitude for both me and Simon? This isn’t exactly what I had planned for today, either.”

There was a slight stir in the air inside the office, like a subtle shift in the atmosphere right before a thunderstorm. Jensen clenched his jaw. “You’re right,” he managed to grind out. “So how are we gonna do this?”

Josh’s eyebrows rose to his hairline and with a grunt he whipped out his phone. “We have to sign some papers I guess, talk to the Sheriff, get your stuff, and then we’re outta here. We don’t have drive all the way to the Texas superior court, I already checked that out. So we best get started; Simon expects us back at the house in about three hours so we better hurry.”

Jensen could feel annoyance crawling beneath his skin like a disease and for the first time in years he actually wanted to punch his brother. Instead he gritted his teeth and nodded stiffly. “So I’m in for a stern talking-to from _Dad,_ huh?”

Josh shrugged, ignoring the way Jensen had spat out the term of endearment like it was an insult. “I think he wants you to come back, move in with them again and join in on the family business. Guess Mom has something to do with it though; she hasn’t stopped believing in you. She still thinks you can be a successful, contributing part of this family, you know?”

It stung to hear about his mother and her too-big heart. But at the same time, Jensen couldn’t hide his disappointment at his family’s betrayal, and his head was pounding with righteous fury.

He was still struggling to come up with an appropriate reply when Sheriff Buckmaster walked in.

“You boys have sorted it out, have ya?” she asked, waving a stack of papers in front of Jensen. “Gotta say I’m not too happy about any of this. You Sir, are one lucky son of a gun.”

She gestured into Jensen’s face and handed him a pen so he could sign the papers, plopping into the seat behind the desk when Josh got up. She looked sleep-deprived and concerned, and Jensen wished he would have met her under different circumstances.

They spent about twenty minutes in the cramped office with Jensen signing one document after another and Josh hovering by the window, hectically hammering words into his cell phone whenever his assistance wasn’t needed. The redhead officer from the day before came in to drop off Jensen’s belongings—his suit jacket, the duffel bag, a handful of change and his empty wallet—and Josh slapped an envelope with the the exact amount of Jensen’s bail on the desk. Sheriff Buckmaster took her time counting, signed off the document and then Jensen stepped outside into the light of an overcast Texas morning, breathing in the fresh air.

Clouds were hanging in streaks of gray and indigo on the horizon and Josh’s sports car—the very same Jensen had left in the parking lot by the bus station the night before—was now waiting a few feet down the road, reminding Jensen of a twitchy stallion scraping its hooves on the ground.

“Well, that was unpleasant,” Josh said while scrubbing a hand across his face. He was handsome in his jeans and blue button-down—bleary-eyed and hungover, but handsome. “Unpleasant and tiring. I think I’m gonna need another coffee.”

Jensen didn’t react; instead he clutched his duffelbag a little closer to his chest. He watched his brother walk to the car, remote-unlocking it from afar before swinging the door open.

“So what now?” Jensen asked when Josh made to slip behind the steering wheel. “You’re going to give me a lift to Simon’s place and then what? He’ll welcome me into his business and we’ll be one happy family? Is that it? Is that what my happy end is supposed to look like?”

Shrugging, Josh leaned against the side of the car. “Whatever man, that wasn’t my idea. None of this was. And I don’t think that you deserve a happy ending to begin with. I love you, but if I had it my way, your sorry ass would be rotting in jail for a few days. You crashed my wedding, man, you really fucked up this time. And I’m not gonna sugarcoat anything for you just because you’re my brother.”

Suddenly the crackling tension from earlier in the office was back between them and Jensen could feel it buzz in the nape of his neck where it made his hair stand on end.

“Oh yeah? Guess that makes us fucking even then, you prick,” he huffed. “‘Cause the way I see it is that sold your own brother to the fucking police, man. And that’s a new low, even for you.”

Josh’s eye twitched when he stepped a little closer to Jensen, daring him to do something he’d later regret. “We are trying to help you, Jensen. Can’t you see that your fucking trainwreck of a life is going nowhere? You’re broke, unemployed, and brought a goddamn nutjob to my wedding.”

“He’s not a nutjob,” Jensen hissed and suddenly he was very close to Josh, right up in his face. “And no matter how hard you try to make me feel miserable about my life, it’ll never erase the fact that I banged your wife first.”

Jensen knew that he had gone too far when Josh reared back with a grunt. Time slowed down like they were trapped in the center of a black hole and centuries seemed to fly by before Josh’s fist crashed against the bridge of Jensen’s nose with an ugly, crunching sound. Tender skin tore open to release a trickle of blood and the next thing Jensen knew was his own fist punching into Josh’s stomach, making him gasp for air.

And then all hell broke loose. Punches were thrown, fists smashed into the soft spots above their collarbones, in the hollow of their stomachs, against the vulnerable stretch of their flanks. Jensen wheezed when Josh landed a strategically placed hit against his chin and he retaliated by kneeing his brother in the stomach, only missing by a few inches and bruising his thigh.

“Fuck,” Josh growled, and that’s what tore Jensen away from the sluggish haze and back to the dusty sidewalk just around the corner from the police station.

With a groan he wrenched himself free of Josh’s grip, the jerking movement giving him enough momentum to stumble backwards and out of his brother’s reach.

“Enough,” huffed out. “What the fuck are we doing here? Fuck, you’re my brother Josh, not my enemy.”

Blinking slowly, Josh seemed to agree with the sentiment and with a muffled groan he staggered towards the car. “Had it coming for a long time, asshole,” he grunted but there was no malice in it.

“Ditto,” Jensen laughed and tasting blood he spit on the ground. “You wanna go for a drink somewhere, sort out this mess?”

“Get in the car, you dick. I’m gonna need a coffee and probably a fuckton of aspirin for the splitting headache you just gave me.” And rubbing his sore jaw he slipped into the car, waiting for Jensen to do the same before they drove off.

They found a coffee place near the bus station and—battered as they were—decided to have their refreshments inside the car instead of sitting in one of the cozy booths. The coffee tasted decent, the bagels not so much, and Josh cursed for a good minute before a short, poignant silence fell.

“So what about that dude?” Josh asked after he popped a few aspirin he found in the console of his car. “Do you love him?”

Jensen stopped dead in his tracks. “I dunno,” he said after a moment and there it was again, his heart chattering in his chest like a startled starling. “I like him.”

“Enough to risk going to jail for him? That’s quite something, I’d say. You’re in deep, man,” Josh said and then looked at Jensen very seriously. “Did you really pick him up at a loony bin? I mean I’m not judging but… a funny farm? Seriously?”

Jensen aimed to punch his brother’s shoulder, but only succeeded in hurting his bruised, sore knuckles furthermore. “Don’t say it like that,” he complained. “And I didn’t pick him up. He came to me, followed me right home after I got kicked out of community service.”

“Well that doesn’t sound creepy as shit at all,” Josh muttered, but when Jensen didn’t bother to dignify that with a reply, Josh moved on to the next topic. “So what are you gonna do now, huh? What about Simon and his big plans for your future?”

Feeling his stomach drop, Jensen shrugged. “It’s not happening,” he said simply. “I’m not planning on going back any time soon and Simon can take his gracious offer and shove it up his pretentious, old white ass.”

Josh found it in him to bark out a half-hearted laugh. “Better not say that to his face, bro.”

“It was him who called the cops, wasn’t it?” Jensen asked and Josh had the decency to blush a little as he nodded.

“So what’s the plan? Going back to Austin and being miserable until you die?”

Scoffing, Jensen took a sip from his coffee. “You’re such a sweet talker, Josh. What would I do without you?” There was a brief pause in which Josh sneered and Jensen had a hard time refraining from punching him again. “Can you just… drop me off at the bus station? And do me a favor? Tell the old fart he can sit on a dick before you go and have a wonderful honeymoon with your beautiful wife.”

“Whatever, mate,” Josh said, wincing a bit at the mention of his wife. “You sure you wanna do this?”

Jensen nodded firmly. “I am,” he said and actually believed it.

They finished their coffee and bagels over some light chatting and Jensen felt something unclench inside his chest when they turned into the parking lot of the bus station and Josh reached over to pull him into a tight hug. Jensen found that he didn’t mind being at odds with half the world, but Josh’s being cross with him was something he had never managed to get over lightly.

“Hang in there, buddy, okay?” Josh said quietly, squeezing Jensen until he was wheezing. “Don’t make me come for your sorry ass or I’ll beat you up again, you hear me?”

Jensen snickered. “You wish, Josh,” he said into the collar of his brother’s shirt before pulling back. “Give mom a kiss from me, will you? Tell her I love her.”

“Ew, that’s gross.”

Jensen laughed at that—a whole-hearted, full-body laugh—and grabbing his stuff from the backseat, he pushed the door open. “I’m sorry that I crashed your wedding, Josh.”

“Oh my god, get out!” Josh yelled in mock-disgust. “You’ll get your sap all over me.”

“So we’re good?”

Josh grimaced through the window as Jensen rounded the car in long strides. “We were good the second I kicked the shit out of you, dude. Now go, go—bus isn’t gonna wait for your lazy ass to come around. Keep the suit. And don’t try to hug me again; you’ll give me cooties.”

It felt like a pinch in Jensen’s heart when he turned away from his brother’s leering face, but a good pinch. It had become clear that Josh didn’t approve of his decisions or the way he was currently handling his life, but it would be alright. They would be alright. And that was enough for Jensen to hop aboard the bus half an hour later, his mind already racing now that this one problem was out of the way.

Sore all over and with a crippling pain in his back, Jensen slid into a seat by the window, whispering, “I’m on my way, Jared. I’m coming for you,” as the bus left the outlines of the godforsaken town of Santa Rosa behind in the dust.

By the time the sun had sunk below the horizon, Jensen was sure his nose was broken. Using his fingers and a delicate touch, he tested the throbbing spot on the bridge of his nose, and wasn’t surprised to find it swollen and crusted with dried blood where the skin had burst open under the impact of Josh’s wedding ring.

Snorting, Jensen wiped his face with the dress shirt’s filthy sleeve and sat back. The bus was rumbling down the road, the seats smelled like greasy food and the dust of decades of transportation. A guy in the first row was whistling loud enough to make Jensen’s ears ring, but he didn’t complain. Instead he sat back and watched the sun go down like it was the first time he had ever witnessed the spectacle, bereft of words and with his heart growing heavy inside his chest.

The sun above the sea had been a different one. Or maybe Jensen had been different then. More, he had been more. Less alone, with Jared, who had left footprints in the sand and unerasable traces in the soil of Jensen’s heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Jared set the chair down.

They had dragged Jensen away. The rain had been like a blurry curtain in front of Jared’s eyes, obscuring his view and drenching his clothes until he felt like drowning. He had fought like a lion, kicked, scratched, even bitten one of the officers until they had finally overwhelmed him. Strangers had touched him, and nausea had trickled through Jared until he had been gasping in panic.

“Calm down, Mr. Padalecki,” someone had said over the downpour of the rain but Jared didn’t want calm. He didn’t want quiet, composed, relaxed. What he had wanted was hot, reluctant, wild and stormy. Like the ocean’s waves he had ached to toss and swell until he was but a splash of frothy, unabashed salt water, ready to swallow the world. Ash grey he had wanted to turn, and rise with the tide to overthrow levee after levee, become the gurgling void beneath the inky surface, ruin the earth that had birthed him, lay waste to the peaceful shorelines and crash into the sand until there was nothing left of him. But nothing of the likes had happened; instead they had put him into a police car and drove off with his cold, unmoving body in the back seat and only the quietly jingling sea shells in his pant pockets to remind him of the ferocious sea.

They had put him into a hospital bed and a man had asked questions while casually lounging in a chair until Jared’s head had felt like it was splitting in two. After he was done, a nurse with fire-engine red lipstick had gently stroke his hair before she had handed him a cup of water and a single, white pill.

“So you can sleep some, sweetheart,” she had said softly and waited until her patient had obediently taken the medicine.

Jared didn’t swallow the pill. Instead he kept it hidden in the swell of his cheek until the nurse had left and he could spit the bitter medicine into the sink by the door. The sky had been overcast, stormy, thick banks of clouds threateningly veiling the stars. Shadows had danced across the walls, the floor had creaked and the world had been too quiet where Jared sat in the big, empty hospital bed.

He had still been awake when Dr. Smith appeared under the door frame the next morning, her eyes small and dull from the lack of rest after half a night’s worth of driving. She had seemed agitated and angry, and she had taken Jared away from the clinic where everything was white, sterile, too clean for Jared’s dirty feet to belong anywhere.

Back in Austin, they had shoved him into his old room, with the same empty walls and the barren plains of the unmoving, glaring sheets. They had made him his change into hospital clothes again and took away the dirty, snot-stained Henley. Jared hadn’t made it easy for them and fought for the mangled, filthy piece of rain-soaked fabric, but Dr. Smith had been determined to take it all away from him, make him succumb to the steady emptiness of the hospital’s daily routine. It was when Jared had taken a shower that they had stolen the sea shells from under his pillow, the piece of smooth bottle glas and the small, crumbled origami blossom Jensen had given him at the wedding gone when he emerged from the community bathroom.

“It’s better this way, Jared,” Dr. Smith had murmured when Jared threw his tea mug against the wall next to the window in agony, mouth hanging open on a silent scream. “I’ll help you deal with it, I promise. You just have to trust me now.”

It was then that Jared had stopped eating. A hollow had appeared beneath his ribcage and they had threatened to artificially nourish him through an IV, made him sit in front of his full plate for hours. But Jared just didn’t want to anymore, and so he had turned his head to stare out of the window, thinking about the cruel, ferocious sea and the way Jensen’s fingers had felt against his skin when he had buttoned up the crisp, white shirt across Jared’s chest at the wedding.

The chair groaned under Jared’s weight when he stepped up, bare foot, on the seat in the dim light of the setting sun. It had been almost a week since they had taken Jared away from the bus station, the rain and Jensen, and after so many lonely hours, Jared just felt like he couldn’t be strong anymore. He was fed up with the bars in front of his window, the stiff cold pillows, the cheap plastic floor under his feet and the glaring emptiness between the cracks in the wall. It might have been the lack of sleep or the lack of  proper nutrition, but Jared couldn’t remember the song Jensen had hummed when they were dancing in the rain, or what color the paint right across Jensen’s chest had been out on the paintball field behind the carnival. And no matter how feverishly he told himself that it had been real—Jensen, the rattling bus, the blue popsicle making his lips tingle, the small cherry-string ring in his hand—sometimes rehashing a memory didn’t do the trick. And after being locked up all his life, seeing the sun from the hospital’s fenced-off backyard just simply wasn’t enough anymore.

Jared’s toes were aching to touch soft, damp sand again and the skin across the vault of his ribs was stretched too thin. He was all alone in the hospital—trapped like a starling in a cage by the window—and tying the noose into the bathrobe belt he’d stolen from another patient felt like an act of freedom. Like redemption.

The faded fabric was rough under Jared’s touch, the jarring wood of the chair like a symphony of crackles and groans. The tiles reflected the ashen dust that hung beneath the window, the gurgling of the pipes joined the carefully conducted aria, and Jared slipped his head through the noose, pulling it tight around his craned neck with a flick of his wrist.

Seconds ticked by and Jared stalled. Somewhere outside a car honked angrily and memories of the old, wheezing Greyhound floated in through the window, making Jared turn tense in his position on the chair. The world seemed to sutter to a halt on a single, endless heartbeat and suddenly Jared felt like he was coming apart at the seams when he realized his mistake. _It had been real_. It all had been real, and Jensen was still out there, living, breathing, going about his days. And though he might have forgotten about the promise he’d given in the pouring rain and about Jared altogether, Jensen was real, and so was the life he was leading. He might had made new friends, found a new job, moved on. But he was real.

Jared’s heart squeezed so tight, and accusingly it thundered against his ribs in a frightening off-beat, sending tingles down his spine. It was like something had shifted, and it so happened that right there in the suffocating humidity of the bathroom, locked behind an unwavering set of iron bars, Jared became the rolling, unforgiving, opulent sea. As a wave of inky black he lapped against the shoreline, licked up sand and flotsam, brought salt and seaweed in with the tide and pulled along a sweeping, wheezing storm. He was strong and vivid, and with a gasp he slipped his head out of the noose.

Stepping down from the chair, Jared realized that he was shaking, crying, his body cramping like he had been running for hours. His eyes stung with the bitter tears that trickled down his cheeks and with a sob he sunk onto the unforgiving floor and against the cool, tiled wall.

That’s how Nurse Genevieve found him, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around himself. He had buried his grief-stricken face between the sleeves of his thin sweatshirt to hide his tears in the rough-spun fabric.  

Genevieve’s heart sank when she noticed the arrangement in front of Jared: the chair standing by the window and the noose dangling from the pipes like a horrible, looming threat. With a churning stomach she sat down next to her patient.

“Hey JT,” she muttered softly and watched Jared flinch. “What’s going on, huh?”

Remaining curled into himself, Jared shook his head. “Go away,” he breathed into his wet sleeve, shuddering violently.

“You know I can’t do that,” the nurse replied. “And for the record, I don’t want to either. If you don’t want to talk it’s fine. Let me just sit and hide with you for a while, okay?”

Jared didn’t even want to feel something inside his chest unclench, but his body seemed to live a life of its own these days, and with a wet, throaty sob hiccuping out of his mouth he nodded.

They sat in silence. Genevieve’s breath was quiet and steady, her hair like an ocean of glossy, vibrant dark chocolate against her shoulders. She smelled like wild honey and charcoal—sweet and tart—and so spectacularly different from everything else in the sterile, clean hospital. The clothes of her mint green scrubs whispered against the bare skin on her arm when she shifted to careful reach for Jared, brushing her fingers against the mop of his hair.

“It’s alright, honey,” she murmured over the sound of Jared’s quiet, pained sobs. “Let it all out, take your time. It’s okay to cry. I’m here.”

Jared winced at the nurse’s soft, fond voice, and with his heart threatening to fall out of his chest he opened his mouth. “I miss him,” he blurted out. “Everything feels wrong in here.”

Jerking around, Jared unfolded from his huddled, miserable position on the floor, pointing at his heaving chest. “It hurts, because I miss him so much.”

Turning to look at Jared, the nurse nodded. “I know, JT,” she said very quietly. Her big, brown eyes were full of compassion when Jared crashed into her like a storm flood, face smushed into the crook of her neck and arms clamping around her waist like a vice.

“I didn’t know what it felt like not to hurt all the time, Nurse Gen. I didn’t know my heart could be like that, beating on its own,” Jared cried into the fabric of Genevieve’s scrubs. “And then he came along, and he made it better. And I’m just a broken boy and he’s like the sea and I’m so lost without him. I don’t wanna be dead, I know that now, I just wanna be with him.”

Cradling Jared carefully, Genevieve rubbed slow circles against the sharp curve of his knobby spine, nodding thoughtfully. “I know sweetheart, I know it hurts. It’s like being torn apart from the inside, I know. It’ll go away—”

“No,” Jared protested and almost knocked his head against the nurse’s chin when he jerked up. “I don’t want it to go away. It’s terrifying, but I wanna keep it forever. Because it reminds me of him, that he was real, and so am I.”

Shaking her head softly, Genevieve wiped a few angry tears from Jared’s cheek. “You don’t need to suffer as a reminder of what he means to you, Jay. There’s other ways, too and I swear I’ll be around to help you find them. It’s gonna be alright, I promise. You just have to— _oh_ , somebody’s coming.”

Footfalls echoed in the hallway and both their heads whipped around just in time to see Dr. Smith walk in with her white coat billowing behind her like the cape of a twisted, unusual super hero.

“What’s going on here?” she asked sternly before either could say a word and her eyes flashed threateningly as she scanned the scene. “What is the meaning of this?”

Genevieve’s mouth opened on an explanation, but Jared beat her to it and with a new wash of tears trickling down his cheeks he whispered, “I wanna see Jensen.”

“What? You can’t be serious,” Dr. Smith cursed quietly under her breath, and then louder. “Jared, what were you thinking, huh? What is it about this man that you’re willing to risk your life for him?”

Jared felt the nurse’s arm sneaking around his shoulders, holding him upright and keeping his shuddering, aching body grounded. With a wet sob wrenching out of his chest and clinging to his friend like a lifeline he said, ”I love him,”

Silence fell like a curtain and Dr. Smith snorted, her face changing from a scolding expression to a mask of disbelief.

“That’s nonsense, Jared,” she said with a frown. “You barely even know this man, you’ve spent a total of three days together.”

Swallowing bitterly, Jared felt his heart throb inside his chest and with a thick whimper he shook his head. “I _do_ know him. He’s my friend, and I love him. He took me to the ocean, and we made a campfire and he gave me his pants.”

Taking a deep breath, Dr. Smith tried to soften her expression. “Jared, honey, that doesn’t necessarily has to mean anything—”

“Yes, yes it does,” Jared cut in with a sob. “And I know that because it’s here, inside me. It’s in here and it makes my heart so heavy. And you—you know nothing about life, you… you meanie. Because I have a friend and he’s real, and you’re trapped in here.” There was a brief pause in which Jared felt like falling apart. But he gathered what was left of his courage and continued before anybody else could interrupt his train of thought.

“He let me walk around without socks, and we took the bus and bought popsicles from the nice lady. He threw paint at me until it was all in my hair; we slept in the same bed and we watched the stars. He danced with me in the rain, and said my name like it’s the only thing he could remember. I didn’t have to remind myself to breathe when he was around; I wasn’t scared all the time. I wanted to touch him because for the first time it didn’t make me sick to my stomach to reach out to someone. He never laughed at me. He held me, he let me sit in the front seat and shared his crackers with me. I know him, because I listened to the sound of his heart.”

Jared’s voice had become very quiet in the end, and wavering, it stuttered to a halt. Silently his tears fell, soaking into the collar of his shirt until it felt heavy with grief. Somewhere, someone dropped a plate and it clattered to the ground, splintering apart.

Dr. Smith’s eyebrows had been steadily rising to her hairline during Jared’s speech, though her expression had somewhat softened. “Jared,” she said carefully as she stepped a little closer. “I know what all this must look like to you, but he’s a man, and not a very trustworthy one. I wish I could take your word for it, but until we’re sure he’s going to do no further harm to you, we can’t allow you to see him again. Do you understand that?”

Jared didn’t react, so Genevieve pushed him up gently. “Did you hear what Dr. Smith said?” she asked softly, still rubbing Jared’s back with a gentle hand.

“Yes,” he said with a hollow voice, and suddenly all fight had left him. The words _not very trustworthy_ and _harm_ spiraled in his head into an ugly mess, and letting out a shuddering breath Jared realized that Dr. Smith didn’t understand a single word of what he was saying.

Eventually they got up from the floor and a group of men walked Jared to his room. They sat him down on the bed, asked a few questions and Dr. Smith stayed to introduce him to a new, yellow pill. She attempted to brush his bangs back in a painfully awkward gesture of comfort, but Jared ducked away from the cold touch of a stranger and instead curled into himself on the mattress without so much looking at the food-filled tray on his desk.

He wanted to see the ocean again. He wanted to sleep in a motel and eat cotton candy, see the stars blink awake and stay up all night to count the seconds till dawn. He wanted to see those mountains everyone kept talking about, wanted to ride a horse and go to a library. He wanted to live, breathe, grow. But most of all he wanted Jensen—and without him, everything else was but an empty, hollow shell of a broken dream.

Jared fell asleep with his arms wrapped around his pillow and his legs twisted into the sheets. His eyes were blank from the tears, his skin smelling sweat-sour. He tossed and turned until sunrise, and when the nurses came to wake him for breakfast, he was hot from a fever and the hollow of his stomach was aching so bitterly, it made him cry with pain and emptiness.


	7. Chapter 7

Kim called Jensen on his first morning back in Austin. Her voice was wavering with concern and she didn’t stop rambling for thirteen minutes and until Jensen’s ear ran hot against the cell phone.

“What the hell were you thinking?” she asked once she finished her rant, and Jensen didn’t know what to say. He had nothing, so he just kept listening and taking down court dates. By the end of the call, he felt exhausted beyond measure.

“They have a restraining order against you,” Kim had said. “And you a lot more to worry about. Dr. Smith is not amused, I can tell you, and the only reason you’re not kicked out of the country is because she hasn’t determined your fate yet,”

Jensen found solace in Kim’s exaggerated attempts at humor, and with a sigh he settled at the kitchen table. Court dates probably meant more community service, or an impossibly ridiculous fine he would never be able to come up with the funds to pay for. He hadn’t heard back from his family, but even if he had, he  wouldn’t have picked up the phone anyway. Josh had sent an email from the Phillipines, but apart from that Jensen had kept to himself, in his miserable excuse for an apartment, dreading sun-down and pacing between the walls like a fretful jungle animal. He tried to call the hospital, but got hung up on every single time.

Nothing made sense anymore. The food turned to ashes in his mouth, and there was no comfort or catharsis to be found in sleep. He was haunted by the image of Jared up on that chair, all golden afternoon glow and deadly intention, and his fear for Jared’s life grew everyday, coiling at the base of his spine like a spreading disease. The isolation was tearing him apart, and yet the thought of surrounding himself with anyone but Jared seemed absurd, hysterical, entirely preposterous. Every subsequent breath became a little harder, every morning a little grayer, and by the end of the week, Jensen’s skull was ready to crack open with the crushing ache churning inside.

He made it through exactly six days, three hours and twelve endless minutes before he decided that it was quite enough, and putting on a fresh pair of jeans and the last clean shirt he found in his closet, he traded the suffocating, clustered space of his apartment with the hot, stifling air on the streets of Austin.

It took Jensen a moment and an age to get to the station, board a bus, cross half the city until the automatic announcement finally called for his stop. _St. Pennywise Station._ It seemed like a dream since the last time he had hopped off the bus at the exact same stop, uncomfortable and hot in his slacks, ready for the day to end. This time the sun was already dipping into the horizon, and the shadows of the hospital grew long. The air was humid from the rain, and deliberately, foolishly ignoring the looming threat of the restraining order, Jensen approached the fence.

Patients in white hospital clothes were walking the yard, none of them Jared, and a dark-haired nurse in hot pink scrubs leaned against a tree near the gate, her ponytail whipping erratically whenever she laughed at one of the patient’s antics. She was short, but from the way she held her body Jensen could tell she was no stranger to stoic confidence.

The iron of the fence was warm when Jensen gripped it, and its firmness gave Jensen enough courage so that his voice didn’t waver when he said, “Hey there,” and then a little louder, “Excuse me, can I talk to you for a sec?”

The woman in the scrubs turned around, and furrowing her brow she stepped a little closer. “Do I know you?”

Jensen wanted to shrink under her scrutinizing gaze, and wincing he gathered what little was left of his waning bravery. “No, you don’t. Or at least not yet, but I thought you might be able to pass a message for me? To one of the patients, I mean.”

The crease between the nurse’s brows became a canyon, and scowling she eyed the stranger. “What is this? A joke? If you want to see one of our patients you can use the visiting hours, like everybody else does. I’m not your messenger.”

“I meant no offense,” Jensen said appeasingly. “It’s just… it’s complicated and I thought you could do me a favor ‘cause you’re really, quite literally, my last chance.”

“Complicated?” The nurse asked, and after throwing a searching glance across her shoulder, she stepped a little closer. “Do tell.”

Laughing nervously, Jensen scrubbed one hand across his face to wipe the sweat off his brows. “Well, I don’t know where to begin, to be honest,” he said apologetically.

“For starters? How about the essentials?” the woman suggested helpfully. “Like your name, and why you look like death warmed over.”

And there it was, the moment where Jensen had to decide if he would trust the woman in front of him and confess, or just go with a shady lie and see where it got him. The nurse cocked her head, her lips pursed to a half-smile, and Jensen took a leap of faith.

“My name is Jensen Ackles, and I’m the one who supposedly stole one of your patients last week.”

The nurse’s face went blank the moment she squared her shoulders, and stepping closer to the fence she hissed. “What are you doing here, you idiot? We have a restraining order against you, remember?”

Bewilderment and barely concealed anger came off her in waves, and it hit Jensen like a wall of solid brick. “Uh,” he choked out, and then. “Do you know Jared?”

“How dare you show up here? Hasn’t he already suffered enough? You know what his mother did to him, yeah? You saw him when you dragged him around, didn’t you? And still you have the audacity—”

She cut herself off with a gasp, the look on her face sheepish when she realized she had already said too much. A cursed slipped off her lips and then she was turning around, ready to return to her sentinel post by the tree and to ignore Jensen and all he had to say.

His voice was booming when he said “Wait!” and little quieter, “Please, don’t go. Tell me how he’s doing at least, ‘cause I think I’m going nuts.”

Scoffing, the nurse shook her head, but despite looking like she was going to murder Jensen, she stayed put, waiting for him to continue.

“I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, and I can’t shake the feeling Jared’s in trouble. Shit, last time I saw him some scumbag police officer was dragging him away like a piece of meat while he was screaming his lungs out. He’s strong, but he’s not made for this.”

“For what?”

Jensen made an all-encompassing gesture. “This. Being locked up like a prisoner, even if it’s for his own good. He’s not just some nutjob with a death wish, he’s so much more. He’s good, kind, gentle and so fucking brave. I’m—”

“I know,” the nurse cut in with a sad smile. “I know all that. I’ve been with him since day one, since they got him out of this shithole and I’ve seen what you saw.”

Jensen took a shuddering breath. “That day I saved Jared from the noose, I didn’t know what I was doing. I just saw a skinny boy with greasy hair, but today I know better. But he never promised me he wouldn’t do it again, wouldn’t step up on that goddamn chair, and that’s why I’m here.”

Something akin to pain flashed across the nurse’s pretty face when she said, “You’re not just messing with him, are you? You’re not just saying that to get a cheap way out of your sentence?”

“No,” Jensen said without missing a beat. “I don’t care about the restraining order and whatever they decide in court. I just want Jared to be okay, is all. All my life I have been running from my responsibilities but this time I’m not running. I owe him.”

The woman behind the fence searched his face with one last, dissecting gaze, before she caved. “Look, I gotta get these sweethearts back inside before dinner,” she said with a whip of her head towards the scattered patients behind her back. “But I’m off in about an hour and I want you to wait for me here.”

She took a small notepad out of her pocket, and scribbling a bunch of numbers and words down, she then passed him a piece of paper.

“I’m Genevieve by the way, and I trust you’ll be there. If you really care for Jared, we’ll make it work.”

Relief coursed through Jensen like a wash of ice-cold glacier water, and a wobbly, “Thank you, Genevieve,” was all he could come up with before the nurse waved him goodbye and walked away, leaving him by the fence and alone with his rallying thoughts.

 ♦ 

“You have to tell Dr. Smith,” Genevieve said when she plopped down on the chair next to Jensen. The light inside the bar was dim, the furniture mostly polished wood and fir tree green cushions. Music was playing from somewhere, and Genevieve ordered a martini from the cheery waitress.

Jensen choked on his water. “What?”

A fierce look on her face, the nurse twisted her hair into a bun before she repeated. “You gotta tell Samantha; she’s the only one who can help. She’s not the world’s most tender-hearted person, but she’s not immune to emotion.” Genevieve waited until her drink was served, then leaned closer again in that conspiratorial fashion. “She knows Jared is hurting, and the numbers on his chart only serve to support that claim.”

Wincing, Jensen gripped his glass tightly, and with his heart in his throat he asked, “How’s he holding up, Genevieve? Be honest with me.”

“He’s not okay, Jensen,” the nurse replied with that heartbreaking look of lost hope on her face clear as day. “He’s refusing his medication and won’t talk to his therapist. He doesn’t eat, Jensen, and with how skinny he already was before, it’s not long until they start him on an IV.”

“Did he get up on that damned chair again?” Jensen asked, and he already knew the answer before Genevieve nodded hesitantly.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes he did. But he didn’t go through with it, and I think it’s because of you. And that’s about the only reason you and I are sitting here right now. ‘Cause I want to believe you can make a difference and help this sweet, gentle boy. And if you can’t, I’m willing to bet that nobody can, no matter how many pills they shove down his throat.”

Jensen’s brain was still stuck on the image of Jared up on that chair, noose dangling loosely around his bruised neck, and the fact that he couldn’t save him a second time, but Genevieve’s fierce words reminded him that there was more at stake than his own battered ego, and taking a deep breath, he sat up straight.

“So what’s the plan?”

 ♦ 

The door in front of Jensen was just as he remembered it: white, immaculate, undisturbed. Nothing revealed what was lying behind it: no sign, no hastily scribbled note on the wall. Jensen’s swallowed around the lump in his throat, and things began to feel dangerously like the calm before a storm, like the long, sullen silence right before the heavy impact of something terrifying.

“Go ahead,” Genevieve said calmly from where she stood beside him, and gently nudged his shoulder.

To Jensen’s surprise—and infinite relief—nothing of the notion happened when he reached out to knock three times. The world didn’t shift, no lightning cracked the sky and instead a faintly familiar voice called for him to come in.

“Dr. Smith,” Jensen greeted, and was instantly interrupted by the doctor’s gasped “You!” and then, “I’m calling security.”

Holding his palms up in appeasement, Jensen tried to look harmless as he shuffled through the door, but ultimately it was the sight of Genevieve’s small form that made the blonde woman stop dead in her tracks.

“Genevieve?” she asked incredulously. “What’s going on? What is the meaning of this?”

“Dr. Smith,” Genevieve replied with a smile. “We’re sorry to interrupt your busy work day, but this is urgent and it can’t wait.”

Irritated by the sudden appearance of both her most reliable employee and the man who—in her eyes—had thoroughly earned himself the title of a criminal, Dr. Smith huffed out a curse before she fell back into her chair, grinding her teeth.

“Explain yourself then, and you better do it fast before I lose my temper,” she said, with wariness settled into her features as she watched Jensen take a seat in front of her desk.

Despite his outward calm—only betrayed by the sweat beading down his temple, and the nervous click of his tongue against his teeth—Jensen could feel his pulse skyrocketing, and clamping his hands around the armrests of the chair, he said, “I’m here for Jared.”

“Oh no,” Dr. Smith immediately exclaimed. “This is not happening; the conversation is over.”

Jensen flinched. “What?” he spat, suddenly on the edge of his seat. “I didn’t even have a chance to explain like you said I would!”

Dr. Smith’s eyes turned hard and she was about to reach for the telephone to make the one call that could end everything, when Genevieve’s unwavering, steadfast voice chimed in.

“Please,” she said with sympathetic expression on her face. “I know this isn’t easy for the both of you, but we’re sitting here together because we’re all worried about Jared. Sam, let him talk. I know what this must look like, and not twenty-four hours ago I wouldn’t have dreamed to listen to a man who’s an accused criminal. But Jensen’s really trying, and he deserves the same, fair chance as anyone else, wouldn’t you agree?”

Dr. Smith didn’t really seem inclined to listen to any more of what Jensen had to say, and her hand kept hovering over the speed dial key, but she did nod for Jensen to go on. And so he did.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but I’m here to help. I knew Jared wasn’t okay from the moment they dragged him into that police car down in Santa Rosa, Genevieve only confirmed it for me when I showed up here yesterday. I’m not a good person, and I suck at commitment, but I’m trying, and I want to help. Because it’s tearing me apart to know that Jared is suffering, and I want to do the best I can to make him—”

“Don’t you think you’ve already done enough, Mr. Ackles?” Dr. Smith cut in with a voice like steel grating on stone. “Taking Mr. Padalecki on a road trip, to the movies, dancing with him in the rain, like some love-sick fool? What do you think it does to him, huh? Did you believe he could just walk away from this trainwreck of a situation like you can? Did you just once consider the consequences, what this kind of moronic, careless behavior would do to such a sheltered person?”

Jensen wanted to speak up for himself, but Dr. Smith’s voice rolled right over him, crushing his defenses.

“Mr. Padalecki is in no condition to be dragged around, Mr. Ackles. He’s sick, he needs a stable, nondescript environment where he has the chance to adjust to the world piece by piece, one step at a time. Your intrusion has caused more damage than you can fathom—Mr. Padalecki actually thinks he’s in love with you. With _you_ , of all people.”

“I didn’t just walk away,” Jensen whispered when Dr. Smith took a moment to calm her hitched breath. “Walking away was never an option. I wouldn’t be sitting here if I had wanted to walk away, wouldn’t I? Please, I just want to help.”

Dr Smith shook her head vehemently. “We don’t need your help, Mr. Ackles. No one here does.”

“I don’t wanna be rude,” Genevieve interfered before Jensen found the right words to speak up. “But I don’t think that’s quite true. Jared is hurting, there’s no denying that, Sam. I don’t have to explain to you how dire the situation is and I’m quite shocked myself to find the head nurse of St. Pennywise willing to cooperate with a stranger, but we both know that the traditional approach is not always the the most constructive.

“We’ve seen people react positively to dogs after a trauma session. We’ve watched a man come back after two years in a coma because he kept holding on to the voice of his beloved in the dark. Kids get to hold their favorite toys in therapy, soldiers with severe PTSD get assigned horseriding lessons to find their way back to a normal life through bonding with the animals. Teenagers are allowed to bring their best friends to sessions, grown men come apart at the seams at the sight of a therapy dog. Do these things count for nothing? Isn’t it worth a shot to save this young man from being fed through a tube—or worse from stepping onto that chair again, even with only the smallest chance of success?”

Genevieve was amazing, and Jensen found himself staring when she continued in a soft voice.

“Sam, I’m not suggesting we abandon all faith in our current course of action and let Mr. Ackles waltz in and out of the hospital to his heart’s content. What I’m saying is that strong bonds, no matter how unlikely, can enhance the healing potential of therapy by a significant amount. We’re not just minds and numbers, Sam, we’re also flesh and bone and blood—and sometimes a simple touch—the hug of a loved one, the kiss of a mother, the pat on the back of a friend—is all it takes to give a patient the courage to get through the day.

“All I’m asking for is one visit, Sam, one chance for Mr. Ackles to fuel Jared’s will to overcome his inner turmoil and give him something to look forward to.”

Dr. Smith grunted noncommittally at that, and leaning back in her chair, she brought her fingers up to rub both her temples in slow circles. “So you want me to let a criminal do my work, is what you saying? Did you even consider Stockholm Syndrome?”

Jensen huffed out a breath. “That’s bullshit, I didn’t even kidnap him to begin with. He followed me home, remember?”

Dr. Smith squinted, but the threatening tone in her voice was gone when she said, “So what do you have to offer, Mr. Ackles? Any ideas, suggestions? What is your brilliant plan to save our dear Jared from the hell you’ve pushed him into?”

Sarcasm was something Jensen could work with, and with a thin smile he said, “I don’t think I’m in any position to make demands, but I’d like to speak with him. Face to face.”

“That’s it? That’s your big game changer? I gotta say that’s a bit hysterical.” Dr. Smith sneered. Her mouth was a thin line, and tension was written into the sharp, hard angles of her body.

“Please,” Jensen said, finding his voice hollow and bitter. “I know I’m not your favorite person in the world, but I’m here to ask you for Jared’s sake to put our differences aside. I’m guilty of a lot things, and flippancy is definitely one of ‘em. When I walked in here a week ago, I thought I’d just get this over with and be on my way. Same ol’ me, still that snarky asshole. Turned out life had one more big, cosmic joke waiting for me.

”Or so I thought. But then I met Jared. I didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask for him to stumble through my door and refuse to walk away until I couldn’t find a reason to turn him away other than I was scared by his overwhelming kindness, his mind-bending sincerity.” Jensen stuttered to a halt, his words turning quiet. “Truth be told, when Jared first appeared on my doorstep, I pitied him. His disheveled looks, the ripped sweater, and the way he looked at life with all that stupid wonder and naive innocence. Isn’t that just sad?

“I pitied him for the life he had been forced to lead—until I realized that my own life was just as fucked-up and miserable. Only that I had steered myself into this derangement, this big fucking fucked-up mess. All those wasted opportunities, the years of playing step-daddy’s little model soldier, the long downfall—all that shit is on me. I didn’t need a control-freak mother to fuck up my life, I did a perfectly good job on my own. I had every chance to be a good person, and I blew it.

“It took me some time, Dr. Smith. But now I understand. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like Jared. He wears his heart on his sleeve just as defiantly as he waves at birds. He laughs at jokes that are at least a century old, and hides a pair of dimples in his cheeks. When he disagrees with something, his entire being disagrees, though quietly. Of all the people in this world, he showed me that we’re not made to gaze into the stars to falter and despair at the universe’s vastness, but to find new opportunity in its endless stretch. There’s more to life than being successful; sometimes simply _being_ is already enough. And there’s beauty in this world, good things, kindness and wonder. It’s the little things that matter. Jared made me realize that I gotta stand up for what’s important, and this right here is where I want to start.”

Dr. Smith’s face was blank, but something in her stiff posture had softened, her shoulders a little less tense against the backrest of her chair.

“I won’t allow you to experiment your newfound commitment and enthusiasm on one of my patients, Mr. Ackles,” she said slowly. “And while I’m admittedly impressed with your words, I can’t take the risk that Mr. Padalecki will get caught in the crossfire.”

Jensen’s face fell, and he shuddered out a breath, feeling his heart sink. “Please, Dr. Smith. I’m falling apart without him. He’s my friend and I want him to be okay. I can’t lose him; I’ve only just found him.”

“Sam,” Genevieve said softly. “At least think about it. For Jared? And because I want to believe that people can change, no matter how much of a fuck-up they’ve been before.”

Dr. Smith’s eyebrows furrowed into a harsh line, and a long, heavy silence fell in the office. The smooth surface of the desk was cluttered with file work, the air smelling like ink and paper and the same acrid detergent Jensen had been using on the toilets. They waited, and eventually Dr. Smith steepled her fingers together, frowning.

“Fine,” she said harshly. “We’re gonna give it a shot and see how it goes. But both Gen and I and at least two members of the security team will be present. You have five minutes.”

Jensen’s legs grew weak at the verdict, and he was glad he was allowed to sit a moment longer while Dr. Smith made the required arrangements before they went upstairs. Blood was rushing through his ears; he could barely hear what was being said after Dr. Smith gave her go-ahead. His heart was jolting in his chest, ready to burst with relief and hurting in that bittersweet, terrifying way that sweeps you right off your feet.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jensen whispered once they made their way through the hallways of the hospital, shoes clicking against the plastic floor.

Genevieve smiled, and winking, she said, “Help Jared, thank me later,” and that was exactly what Jensen intended to do.

The door to Jared’s room looked just like the one to Dr. Smith’s office, only this time Jensen didn’t feel like throwing up as he stood in front of it.

“Let me talk to him first,” the blonde doctor said. “And Mr. Ackles? When you’re in there remember not to make any promises that you can’t keep. I’m warning you.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” Jensen replied dutifully, and with a last, measuring gaze in Jensen’s direction, Dr. Smith let herself into the room, taking Genevieve with her.

It was like time was bending entirely to the devil’s will while Jensen waited outside the unnervingly white door, but at last a voice from inside called for him to come in, and two guardsmen shoved him unnecessarily hard when he didn’t step forward immediately.

The first thing Jensen noticed was—hilariously—the jarring door handle and the disturbing change of pattern on the floor, from bad to worse. The walls were blank, the furniture sparse. A cup with a few, wilted flowers stood by the window, and Jared’s backpack was nestled in a corner by the closet. It was deflated and empty, the straps slack.

“Hey Jay,” he heard himself say into the expectant silence of the room, and almost tripped when he got a startled gasp in return. Like a sinner atoning for his mistakes, he kept his eyes downcast, so he only saw a pair of sockless feet dangling from the bed before someone sobbed out his name.

Naked feet fell against cheap linoleum, and then Jared crashed into Jensen with a cry. Stumbling backwards, Jensen scrambled for purchase on the cool wall, and letting out a hysterical bark of laughter he threw his arms around the shaking, shuddering body against his chest. Jared smelled like sour sweat and warm skin, laundry detergent and faint traces of simple hospital shampoo. It was overwhelming.

“Jared,” he wheezed softly. “Jared, baby, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Pressing into the arch of their bodies, Jared shook his head so violently he almost knocked Jensen’s chin. “Don’t say that,” he sobbed into the delicate skin just above Jensen’s collarbones, and let himself be cradled by the bulk of Jensen’s body until their lungs pulled tight with how much they couldn’t breathe.

“I missed you so much,” Jared gasped, and Jensen’s voice almost broke when he whispered. “Me too.”

Soon Jensen’s legs couldn’t hold them up anymore, and they slid slowly to the floor, right by the door next to a frowning guard. Jared came to sit between Jensen’s thighs, and seizing the opportunity he climbed into his lap, head coming to rest above Jensen’s hammering sparrow-heart.

Jared was skinnier now, bones poking through the thin hospital clothing and the knobs of his spine dangerously prominent. The skin across the sharp curve of his cheekbones was almost translucent, and Jensen felt his throat go dry at the sight.

Cupping Jared’s face, he reminded himself of how little time they were allowed, and with a tug in his heart he said, “Baby, what are you doing? The doctor says you’re not eating, is that true?”

Blushing furiously, Jared nodded.

“And how are you gonna be strong enough to climb a mountain like that, huh? Or ride a horse?” Jensen inquired further and decided to completely ignore the sound of Dr. Smith poignantly clearing her throat.

Jared shrugged. “I don’t know,” he whispered, his fingers carding through the short hair at the nape of Jensen’s neck. “I thought I’d never get the chance anyway, so why bother.” And with a sad little smile, he turned to press a tender kiss into Jensen’s palm.

“Hey listen,” Jensen said once he processed the touch of Jared’s lips against his skin, the way their bodies were entangled, and how his senses went haywire under the weight of Jared’s fidgeting body. “I’m gonna make you a deal: you’re gonna try to have a snack once in awhile, and in a few weeks when you’re feeling better I’ll ask Dr. Smith if I can take you to my uncle’s ranch. What do you say?”

Ducking his head, Jared hid a blush behind his bangs. He smiled, and said, “I’d like that very much.”

“That okay?” Jensen asked in the doctor’s general direction, and when her reply turned out to be a ground-out, “fine,” Jensen didn’t know what to do with all his maddening relief, the sheer joy, the unwavering, undeniable, terrifying fondness that spread through his chest like the blazing summer heat.

“You gotta take care of yourself, Jay,” Jensen murmured and tipping their foreheads together he let out a shuddering breath. “You have so much to live for, and the world isn’t not ready to lose its fiercest paintball player yet, alright?”

Something between a sob and a laugh wrenched out of Jared’s chest, and with a hiccup he said, “I don’t wanna be dead.”  

Their hands found each other, their fingers lacing together, and with a wobbly smile Jared glanced at the cherry-stem ring.  

“Good,” Jensen muttered softly. “That makes two of us.”

Behind them, Dr. Smith was tapping a nail against the glass of her wristwatch and with his stomach performing a perfect somersault, Jensen said, “We don’t have much time, Jay, I gotta leave in a few minutes. But I want you to promise me something, okay? Listen to Dr. Smith, let her help you. She and Nurse Genevieve are the good guys here and they know what they’re doing.”

Jared turned around a bit to look at the women standing by the window, both of them smiling warmly. “I don’t like Dr. Smith,” he said and wiping his nose with the sleeve of his sweater he added, “She took away all my things, and said I should just forget you.”

“That may be so, but she also let me come and see you. She’s just worried about you.”

Scrunching his nose in a scowl, Jared shrugged. “I just don’t wanna be in here, locked up and terrified. I don’t need another mother.” His voice became wobbly at that, and shivering he said, “I don’t wanna hurt anymore.”

“I know baby, and you guys will be working on that,” Jensen said softly. “But you’ve been away from the world for so long, and sometimes it’s better to take things slow, makes it easier. There will be time for road trips and to go on spectacular hiking holidays, but first you gotta learn the basics, huh? Doing groceries, paying bills, cooking a meal—all that gross, overrated grown-up stuff.”

Jared did smile at that, and with a sigh he leaned his cheek against Jensen’s. The rise and fall of his chest was heavy, his skin hot to the touch. He looked the same, yet different, as if something inside him had shifted, too.

“Jensen?” Jared whispered when his lips were so very close to Jensen’s ear, his warm breath sending tingles through Jensen’s chest.

Rubbing slow circles into the small of Jared’s back, Jensen said “Yeah?” very quietly and private, so that only the two of them could hear.

Jared drew a deep breath, and with a sincerity only Jared seemed to possess, he said, “Jensen, I think I love you.”

There was no word to be found in the gathered libraries and archives of this world and the next to describe the sensation that unfolded in Jensen’s chest; the sharp pull of affection, the rush of light-headed embarrassment, the tug of breathless desperation. It was the soft, insufferable pinch of acknowledged, allowed weakness, the tender ache—soft like the long drag of dawn, the one devastating realization that pushed aside the crippling fear of an uncertain future.

Not knowing what to say—and not trusting his voice either—Jensen just gently pulled back until his lips could graze the mole next to Jared’s nose, his cheek, the curve of his lip, the coral-pink vault of his half-open mouth, until Jared giggled.

Somewhere at the other end of the world, Dr. Smith interrupted, “That’s quite enough Mr. Ackles,” and then someone pulled Jared away from Jensen’s lap until he stood upright and on his own again.

Genevieve put a reassuring hand on Jensen’s shoulder when he staggered to his feet in a cluster of stiffened limbs, and Dr. Smith made to escort him outside when Jared held them back with a hand on Jensen’s chest.

“Can he come to visit again, Dr. Smith? I promise I’ll be good,” he said very quietly and Genevieve held her breath.

Five pair of eyes turned to the doctor and with a terse nod she replied, “I’ll think about it.”

It was enough. Enough for Jensen to tug Jared into a last, warm hug and enough for Jared to press his hot, flushed face against the pulse point on Jensen’s neck where he whispered, “I miss you already, Jen.”

“Take care Jared, yeah? Eat, laugh, let them help you. Be good to yourself, you deserve it,” Jensen croaked and then their time was up and Jensen stumbled out of the room and into the cool, artificial light of the hallway. His legs seemed to weigh a hundred pounds, and his head was swimming, fingers still raw from the kiss of Jared’s fever-hot skin.

“I’d like to chalk that up as a win, Mr. Ackles, but it all depends on your behavior in the future,” Dr. Smith said once they had walked a few feet towards the staircase. Genevieve had stayed with Jared, and Jensen felt briefly lost without her fierce, protective presence.

“You’re still a small-time criminal and a slacker, and my sympathies for you are slim. You’re in no position to make any promises, and you said yourself that you have commitment issues. There’s court dates you have to attend, and community work to be done, making you about the most uncertain source of support I could possibly think of.”

She took a deep breath. “But Genevieve is my head nurse for a reason and she’s probably right when she says that everybody deserves a fair chance. I’m not quite sure what to make of you, or the situation, but tonight I’m gonna go home and try to bring some sense into the mess. And until then I want you to leave my premises, and go try and sort out your own life before you attempt to save Mr. Padalecki’s.”

They were halfway down the stairs when Jensen stopped dead in his tracks, face pulled into a frown. “And what if you never call?”

Dr. Smith smiled tersely. “Well, I guess you just have to trust me, Mr. Ackles. Do you think you can do that?”

Jensen wasn’t sure, but his gut told him to agree, and with a huff he said, “Yeah, I can do that,” before letting himself be escorted outside by the doctor’s somewhat unnerving presence.

 ♦ 

It took Dr. Smith two days to call and Jensen didn’t know if she had been unexpectedly busy or was just trying to mess with him. But he didn’t bother to ask, and instead perked up at the proposal the cool, blonde doctor had to offer.

“So here’s the deal: you can see him every two weeks, regularly, during visiting hours. Your time spent together will be assessed by the current condition Jared is in and I reserve the right to cancel visits on short notice if the schedule requires it, or I decide your presence is an interference with the progress of his therapy. The restraining order is dropped and nullified until further notice, if you agree to complete an extra quota of one hundred work hours of community service.”

Jensen bit back the _That’s practically blackmailing, you do know that, doctor_? and instead kept listening with his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Your contact with Jared will be restricted to limited physical exchange and for the time being you will remain friends. Jared was never given the chance to develop a healthy, curious sexuality and I will not deny him that again because of a crush. And last but not least: on Genevieve’s advise I’ll hereby ask you if you’re willing to participate in Jared’s therapy process whenever I or my team see fit? That means punctuality and commitment, Mr. Lonewolf.”

Jensen did agree. Wholeheartedly, and with smile so wide it made the corners of his mouth hurt.

“Good, we’ll have to write that down for the record,” Dr. Smith said and scribbled a note somewhere. The line crackled and then she said, “This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done and it goes against everything I know is right. But here I am, talking to you. Don’t make me regret my decision, Mr. Ackles, I’d hate to have to kick you out of my hospital again.”

Jensen scoffed at that, then laughed, and swore to keep his promises to Jared, to hold his vows and not let go in case things got ugly. Sitting back, Jensen thought how the scary, terrifying chokehold of commitment had turned into an opportunity to prove himself, and with a shake of his head he took down the first date for a visit to the hospital.

With double the amount of community work and his job at Mrs. Tom’s store, the weeks were long for Jensen Ackles. He left the apartment at sunrise and most days stumbled across the threshold long after dusk, often passing out on the sofa in his work clothes. The money he made was hard-earned and sparse, but it was enough to keep him fed and pay the bills—and what more could he ask for? He had yet to return one of the many, regularly occurring calls from his mother, he didn’t eat as healthy as he probably should have and the appointment with the bank to reevalue the discharge of his debt was still pending. Life wasn’t a dance in the daisies, the cracks in the wall above the sink still unmended, and Jensen allowed himself no illusions about his rocky, uncertain situation.

But after a long shift at the pet store, when Jensen got to walk through the hospital gate and open his arms to let Jared fly against his chest, Jensen knew it all been worth it. And with the prospect of seeing Jared’s smile for the rest of his life—with his cheeks flushed pink in amusement, the dents of his dimples sharpening, and the fan of his lashes like smudged charcoal against his skin—the future didn’t look so bleak anymore.

In fact, Jensen couldn’t wait for it to start.   

**The End**


	8. Chapter 8

EPILOGUE

One thing Jensen had always liked about Austin was the long, idle summer evenings in the city when the air in the streets was stirred by a tepid breeze and every building radiated the residual warmth of a day’s worth of sunshine. When the night didn’t quite want to roll in like a lazy tide, and the horizon blurred with the myriad of colors, the dust of the day settling into the nooks and crannies of the cracked concrete. Soon the first stars would blink awake, and then the merciful veil of darkness would fall, kissing the street lamps alive and leaving the city to a drowsy slumber.

It was the hour when Jensen usually decided to lock the garage’s gates and finish whatever screwed piece of scrap metal he was working on the next day. Whistling, he would scrub his hands clean at the sink by the door and after he’d double checked the locks on the back door, turned off the burner and the gas cans, he would gather his things from the locker, stepping outside. Carefully he’d close the gate, make sure to turn the keys twice, and then take a stroll home.

Only that today, somebody was waiting for him in front of the garage.

With a huge brown dog waiting by his soot-covered, naked feet, arms dangling in the air, Jared sat cross-legged on a broken engine block in the front yard, and was busy counting the moles on his arm, a nervous habit he hadn’t quite managed to shake yet. His hair was longer now and tugged into a messy ponytail, his skin tan from the days spent in the summer heat. A baggy shirt was hanging loosely from his lanky frame, and despite having filled out quite nicely and having gained good, solid muscle, he still looked a little skinny to Jensen atop the metal block, with his long legs and the small hollow Jensen knew was hiding beneath the shirt’s faded fabric.

“What are you guys doing here?” Jensen called from where he stood by the garage door, lips pulling into a smile. “Shouldn’t you be still at the shelter with the other strays?”

Both Jared and the huge, friendly dog perked up at the sound of Jensen’s voice, and yipping excitedly, Harley bounded over to Jensen.

“Hey buddy,” Jensen greeted the dog by scratching behind his ears. Harley wagged his tail at the muttered words, slobbering all over Jensen’s greasy overalls, before the two of them sauntered to where Jared was sitting.

“Hey Jen,” Jared breathed softly, and unfolded just enough that Jensen could step between his legs.

“Hi Jay bird,” Jensen said and after all these months it still felt like his heart was about to thunder out of his chest at the sight of Jared’s face, the way his lips curved into a fond smile. Their fingers found each other to link together, their breaths mingling in the warm breeze.

“Harley wanted to see you, so we came over to pick you up,” Jared muttered, grin turning cheeky.

Unable to bite back a laugh, Jensen let it ring through him like a bell. “So it was Harley’s idea, huh? Good dog,” he snickered and slowly leaned in to press a warm kiss against Jared’s jaw line.

The gentle touch plucked a soft moan out of Jared’s chest, and tilting his head he made their lips brush, stirring butterflies in Jensen’s belly.

“I was wondering,” Jared whispered and let himself be pulled closer by Jensen’s hands on his hips. “If you had any plans for tonight?”

Digging his fingers into Jared’s soft sides, Jensen licked a wet stripe across Jared’s bottom lip and laughed when Jared flushed beet red at the inviting gesture. “Besides you guys coming over so we can order in and catch up on _Star Wars_? Nah, nothin’.”

“Good,” Jared breathed, and nudging their noses together he heard Jensen ask, “So, how was work? How are the pups?”

Smiling sweetly, Jared let the ghost of his breath sweep across Jensen’s cheek when he said, “Good. Great. They told me I should keep one, y’know.”

Jensen felt his lips tugging into a smile as he shook his head softly. “Jay,” he said into the hot, tight space between their faces, trying to sound stern. “You can’t adopt a puppy every goddamn week, okay. Your place will be a mess in no time. ‘Sides Harley will feel left out and get jealous.”

“Are we still talking about Harley, or…?” Jared asked, trailing off as laughter bubbled in his chest.

Jensen inched a little closer, until he could feel the rise and fall of Jared’s chest against his own, and with a grin he said,“Who else would be talking about, baby?”

Jared didn’t have time to find a proper reply after that, and instead he sunk into the wet, open-mouthed kiss, with his fingers twisting in the greasy fabric on Jensen’s shoulders and his chest tight with how much he couldn’t get enough of this. Of Jensen. _Of them._

After their initial reunion at the hospital two years ago, a lot of things had changed. Jensen had stayed true to his promises and finished an additional hundred hours of community service before he applied for a temporary job at Danneel’s auto repair garage. The work was hard, a real challenge, and Jensen had a ton of fun stepping up to it. Eventually Danneel had offered him a solid long term position on her team and Jensen—having come to like tinkering in the grease and appreciating the quiet, honest work he did—had agreed wholeheartedly. It had taken him quite some time and a lot of after-hours working, but after a year he had saved up enough money to leave the run down apartment on the outskirts of Austin, exchanging it with a bigger, cleaner home in a decent neighborhood. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was Jensen’s, and the ever-growing collection of seashells in the spare bedroom reminded him why it was worth keeping around.

Jared had started his therapy, and with a little help of Genevieve and Jensen’s ever-present support, he had kept pulling through. It hadn’t always been easy, and there had been much to learn and understand, but eventually Jared made enough progress to temper the anxious nagging inside his stomach and things became easier. He did learn all that gross, overrated grown-up stuff Jensen had promised, and slowly, step by step, grew into his skin as a member of society. He had moved out of the hospital and into a nearby apartment a year after their unlikely road trip, and started to work in an animal shelter down the street for a few hours a week. Life had become harder after that, more real, and for a few months Jared’s spirits faltered and he was stalling. Being on his own meant taking responsibility and just like everybody else, Jared had needed a little time to adjust and overcome the crippling anxiety that came with it. But he was strong, determined, and after that he had been steadily improving. Harley had proven to be a wonderful support for Jared and the adoption of the dog had brought stability and routine, two of the key things Jared needed to stay grounded in this fast-spinning world.

A lot of things had changed in their lives—settled and grown-up as they were—but not the tenderness between them, nor those soft kisses that Jensen tucked into Jared’s skin at night. The arch of their entangled hands held the same weight, and it felt the all the same when Jensen whispered, “I love you,” against Jared’s lips, when he breathed it into the curve of his neck. Learning to share an everyday life together was like an adventure in its own rights, and they couldn’t get enough of it. Like how Jared was somehow able to shovel down substantial amounts of food in one sitting while visibly savoring every bite at the same time, or how he put his towel into the dryer before he went for a shower. Doing the dishes, mowing the lawn, breaking a sweat over a lost game of table tennis or fighting over the last spoonful of ice cream had never felt so right, and Jensen was so hungry for more, didn’t want any of it to end.

It never stopped being exhilarating to carefully strip Jared and lay him out on the sheets before Jensen kissed him stupid, made him come on two fingers or slowly, menacingly fucked him into the mattress until they both crumbled apart in each other’s arms. Their vows were still the same when Jared bounced in Jensen’s lap, their cocks brushing together in a hot, wet slide of slick skin.

Jensen never changed the way he gently held Jared’s face when they made out on the sofa, and the feelings inside him never altered. Jared’s focus didn’t shift away from Jensen once the entire world lay at his bare feet. After two years and three weeks, they had found a home in each other—in the vault of their ribs, the soft spot behind Jared’s ear, the scattered freckles on the bridge of Jensen’s nose—and after all this time, the shadow of their entangled bodies on the pavement in front of the garage still looked the same: gentle lines, their heads tipped together and a blurred, inky patch where their hands rested above their hearts.

**Author's Note:**

> There it is. My first finished J2 Big Bang. What a wild ride that was.
> 
> First of all: if you made it until here, I wanna thank you for keeping up with my shenanigans and for reading my story, bumpy and angsty as it is. Thank you for every kudo and comment, it means so much.
> 
> Due to some negative experiences in the past, I want to take some time to talk a little bit about the story and my choices in the hope that nobody will take offense in it. When I first decided to write down the story, I never meant for it to become _this_ big. I never wanted it to be a Big Bang. But then I signed up and deadlines drew nearer, and I found myself more and more intrigued by the idea of being this bold, courageous person I always wanted to be and put myself out there again. And even tho I know that the entire plot is an utterly delicate subject, I'm glad I went through with the decision. Because I wanted to tell my story—or parts of it anyway. I wanted to write about childhood trauma and abuse, about depression, about crippling anxiety, abandonment issues, panic attacks and the defiant acknowledgement that there is more to life than just _that_ —because these things are part of my life, too. They have been for a long time. And I found comfort in typing out the words that had been lodged behind my ribs for a lifetime and a half.
> 
> And because I do know that a lot of people are struggling with mental health issues, and each and every one of you have made their own experiences regarding therapy, medication, treatment etc. I want to take the time and remind you that this right here is a work of fiction. None of this is real. It was written for the purpose of entertainment. I know that the distances crossed by the Js in Texas are not accurate, and that this is not how the head of a mental institution should behave or act. That's why it's fiction, and not a newspaper article about real events! Thank you! :)
> 
> I guess this is the part where I say my thanks, and I wanna start with my three-part writing-cheer-squad: [Penny](https://twitter.com/penelopepoppy1)—you've been with me in this from the beginning, read the very first draft before it even became a Big Bang. You're a beacon of light in my life. [Ally](https://twitter.com/greatwallofsam)—your continuos support for this story and the never-ending positivity you pour into my life have been the lifeline of this story and I still now I can't believe I made it. Thank you tremendously. [Pao](http://possessivejensen.tumblr.com/)—you're so fucking important I hope you know how much your support means to me, your messages, your excitement, your ongoing cheerleading throughout my many ups and downs (even while struggling with your own J2BB which I can't wait to get my hands on!).
> 
> I love you guys fiercely, I owe you all so much! You're the real rock stars. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧
> 
> I wanna thank black tea and woodruff soda for keeping me hydrated during the long process of typing, my dog for all the cuddles she gave, my favorite pizza place for delivering past their closing hours, my friend Jonas who kept threatening to steal my movie collection if I wouldn't get a move on, various Twitch streamers for keeping me company at night, my ever-growing music collection for chasing away the overwhelming silences at 3am in the morning. I wanna thank the gloomy weather, and the obnoxiously loud snorer in my apartment complex that kept me up at night, giving me no choice but to write or suffer.
> 
> And last but by no means least, I wanna thank my best friend, my beta, and the one person I owe everything to. [Jess](https://twitter.com/wincechesters_)—you deserve more credit than anybody else, and not just for this story. Throughout the process of writing you have been my rock, my unwavering wall of support, my biggest fan and most enthusiastic cheerleader. You taught me to take some pride in what I do, picked me up when I had a rough patch, and encouraged me to be bold and brave to tell my story. You didn't back down when I was so crestfallen, went through every wild, ferocious emotion with me: excitement, joy, relief, panic, anger, pride, complete and utter disbelief. You were there when I needed you, pulled me along when I didn't want to keep going.  
> You'll never know just how much of this story is because of you, but I want you to know that your empowering, constructive, patient and gentle presence in my life is about the best thing I can imagine and more than someone like me deserves. You're the most important, and I love you to the moon and back. You made this possible, you gave me courage. You never let me down (no, not even when we didn't make the deadline! ;3) and I've never been more grateful to be allowed to play a part in your life.
> 
> I love you so fucking much. You're my heroine, my super woman, my home, and I miss you to pieces. Thank you for everything, your Elenya (∪ ◡ ∪)


End file.
